


Soul of the Wolf

by Meerkatgirl13 (20DruidicKats)



Series: The Delroy Chronicals [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20DruidicKats/pseuds/Meerkatgirl13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weeks have passed since Jeanne Delroy and her brothers evacuated Gilneas. The Alliance summit hanging over them has the Gilneans uncertain with their place in this world. Are they to remain refugees or will they stand as proud members of the Alliance? How will the decisions made now affect the fate of this small but strong family?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of Another Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place approximately three to four weeks after Joan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we find Jeanne training under Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage's direction. News that Stormwind is attending the summit reaches the worgen and Jeanne has a frank talk with Tess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the second part of the Delroy Chronicles! I do hope you enjoy your reading experience! Drop a comment and a kudos below if you like!

_Clunk!_

_Thunk!_

_WHAP!_

_Thud._

"Again!"

Jeanne stifled a pitiful whimper and slowly sat up. A magenta hand thrust itself into her field of view and she automatically took it. Her sparring partner heaved her up onto her feet but she couldn't stop the pained whine from escaping her clenched teeth.

Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage watched her with guarded eyes, observing every move as the young worgen scooped up her fallen staff and square off again. Her movements were slowing with exhaustion and pain, yet determination burned in her emerald eyes. Despite this, the worgen and her sparring partner circled each other. Their eyes never left each others and, by an unspoken and almost unnoticeable signal, leapt at each other with a cry.

The sound of wood smacking against wood filled the sparring clearing as the two students fought for control of the battle. One moment the elven student had the upper hand and the next the worgen did. They traded control as surely and frequently as they exchanged blows and even Malfurion couldn't predict the victor.

With a move that would be a blur to the untrained eye Jeanne managed to simultaneously block her partner's attack and struck his knee with the other end of the long stave. He was knocked off balance for a split second but that was all the time she needed. With a strike to the other knee and a rough shove he fell onto his back, staff flying off into a random direction.

"Good! Very good!" Malfurion called as his apprentice panted from the excursion. Triumph shone in her tired eyes but she helped her partner up before bowing to him.

"Shan'do," Jeanne greeted, striding up to him with as much grace she could muster. A frown tugged at his lips as he noticed she was favoring her right side slightly.

"Heal yourself," he commended gently and, at her wrinkled nose, added, "You will never get better unless you _practice_ , Jeanne."

With a displeased grunt Jeanne's brows furrowed in concentration and she waved glowing green hands. After a moment, the healing glow spread over her entire body. Her posture noticeably straightened and some of her facial features relaxed. Shoulders slumped slightly as the fatigue hit her and she dug around in her pack for her waterskin.

"Very good," Malfurion praised, offering the worgen a encouraging smile. "You seem to be getting better at healing with the new spell."

She shrugged. "Reckon so? Still feels like I'm not doing as much as I should."

"It comes with practice. I am quite surprised with how quickly you are learning."

Jeanne gave him a quizzical look, one jeweled ear rising and the other flattening some. Malfurion gave into the urge to smile at the sight and shook his viridian head.

"I have had very few students learn as quick as you do. What takes another weeks to achieve you achieve in days."

"Ah." Jeanne's ears lowered as she averted her eyes. A small smile played on her lupine lips and the elf was sure that, if she had been in her human form, her cheeks would be pink.

"However," Malfurion continued, grabbing her attention back, "While you are very proficient with damaging spells, your healing still needs much work. In that aspect, you are slow to learn."

The worgen nodded as if she was expecting that answer. An annoyed frown had her baring her fangs for a second and Malfurion raised leaf green brows in query.

She snorted and flattened her ears to her skull. "I don't understand why healing magic is so bloody hard for me. I read the texts on it just the same as the other spells but they don't work like I want them to."

The archdruid shook his antlered head and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "As with all things, they will come in time. Now, have you worked on your garden today?"

The tension left her eyes and was replaced with a peaceful light. "Yes, Shan'do. The plants you gave me the other day have sprouted and the others are blooming."

"The object of this lesson is to exercise _control_ over your magic, Jeanne. Do you feel like that is what you are getting out of it?"  
The worgen nodded though annoyance flickered over her face. "Yes... Shan'do."

"Good." Malfurion examined her for a moment or two, taking in her demeanor.

The worgen proved to be a tough student to teach at first, her impatient and brash nature proving hard to swallow even for him. When he had finally relented and gone to the worgen's previous trainer, Celestine of the Harvest, to unravel the questions he had, she had told him that Jeanne does not learn the traditional way. Everything the young worgen had learned she learned under duress of battle, both training and war. Celestine recommended that he still have her read and understand the texts but make her spar every day. Jeanne's spells would come to her when they felt she was ready for them.

Finishing his evaluation on his apprentice, Malfurion nodded once and reached into a small pouch on his belt. Jeanne's ears perked in interest and she straightened up. Her emerald eyes reflected an intense curiosity as he withdrew his hand and extended his fist to her, palm down.

"I was planning to give these to you at a later date, but I think you should have these now."

He dropped several small somethings into her palm and she eyed them curiously.

Malfurion smiled at her confusion. "They were gathered by some of my druids when your people were evacuated. They are seeds of the roses that grow wild there."

Shock and disbelief flittered on her face before her features settled in gratitude. A small smile played on her lips as she carefully poured them into her pouch pocket and bowed deeply to him.

"I... Thank you Shan'do."

Malfurion dipped his head in acceptance of the thanks and glanced at the moon shining high overhead. He quickly calculated the time left in the night and how long hes had his apprentice that day.

"You are excused for now Jeanne. I will let you rest for the next few days. Much still has to be done for the summit."

He didn't miss the way her nose wrinkled in distaste at the mention of the summit but nodded anyway. With another low bow the worgen dropped to all fours and bounced gracefully away, leaving Malfurion behind with his thoughts. With a shake of his viridian head he turned and started for the forest just beyond the limits of Darnassus.

He had a feeling about this summit and not all of it was positive.

* * *

Jeanne's heart raced as it always did when she was allowed to run. It set the part of her that remained feral free and _bloody hell_ did she ever miss the feeling. Her joy was short lived as she came upon the small secluded area she and her brothers shared, just a short walk away from the Howling Oak.

The druid slowed to a trot, stood back up onto her hind legs and changed back into her human form. Jeanne stumbled slightly as her boot caught on a root and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. She shook her head and carefully picked her way into the small tree like structure. A tiny smile flittered over her lips as she saw both of her brothers fast asleep.

Cerdic was curled in front of the dying fire in the fireplace still in his pack form. Ammon was tucked in a dark corner, head leaning against the wall. Neither of them had thought to sleep in their hammocks, strung up right above them, and the absurdity of it all made her huff in laughter.

Jeanne quietly slipped off her boots and belt, keeping an eye on her slumbering brothers, and picked her way over strewn limbs to curl up against Ammon. Her twin eased out a sigh and shifted so that they could lie comfortably together. With a final small smile Jeanne allowed her exhaustion overcome her and drag her into sleep.

* * *

The summons came at dawn.

Loud rapping had all three siblings jolt up from their sleeping places. Ammon, being the quickest out of the three, was already on his feet with knives drawn. Her twin moved to answer the messenger as Jeanne and Cerdic rolled to their feet. He was back a few moments later, an annoyed look on his freckled face.

"The king wants an audience with us," he supplied shortly, thrusting a small scrap of parchment at Cerdic. "Eadrik was quite insistent."

"Does the prat _ever_ sleep?" Jeanne growled, staggering towards the washbasin and splashing some cold water on her face.

"Be nice Joan!" Cerdic grumbled, skimming the parchment briefly before tucking it in his pocket. "I'm sure it's related to the summit."

"I'll be nice if the tosser is!"

Cerdic sighed and shook his head, choosing to simply let it go. Jeanne harrumphed and went back to untangling her hair, which she'd forgotten to brush through before going to sleep.

"Genn better have some tea on," Ammon sighed, tying his own long hair back with a strip of leather cord. "Light forbid if Joanie doesn't get 'er morning tea."

Her only answer was an irritable growl as she resisted the urge to throw the hairbrush at him and instead set it down. She took a deep breath and tried to find her inner peace, or rather that's what Malfurion called it.

"Ready to go?" Cerdic asked and the twins gave each other a short glare before nodding in unison.

The siblings left and were at the Howling Oak, where the Royals were staying, in good time. Not many Gilneans had the bright red hair the Delroys often sported and so they were recognized long before they got there. The other members of the pack had cleared a path to where the three surviving Royals plus Gwen Armstead and Eadrik were taking their morning tea. The siblings sat themselves down at the rough wooden table and served themselves.

Tess smiled sleepily at Jeanne across from her and made a silent toast with her tea, to which Jeanne responded in kind. Silence stretched across the table as sluggish minds were kick-started into wakefulness. Finally, Cerdic carefully set his teacup onto its saucer and turned to the king with brighter eyes.

"You called, Your Majesty?"

Genn snorted into his tea and took a moment to set his down and compose himself. "I am a king in name only, Cerdic. King to an abandoned kingdom."

"For now!" Eadrik piped up but withered slightly at the look both Cerdic and Genn gave him.

"What I called you three here for," the old king continued, "Is to discuss the upcoming summit."

Jeanne stifled a yawn and did her best to focus. A tap on her foot startled her and the druid warily eyed her tablemates. Tess caught her eye and gave her a playful smirk, to which Jeanne grinned and shook her head.

"I spoke with Archdruid Malfurion earlier this morning." _That_ grabbed the druid's attention.

"What about?" Cerdic asked, glancing at Jeanne briefly before turning his attention back on his king.

Genn took a moment to answer, grey brows furrowing above storm hued eyes. "Stormwind is coming."

The table went still as all eyes were trained upon the aging king. Everyone there knew Gilnean history, both their triumphs and failures.

"Do you think He will be... understanding?" Gwen asked cautiously, reaching up to adjust her little hat perched on her brunette head.

Worry pinched at Genn's lined face though his eyes reflected hope. "From what the Archdruid tells me he is a changed man; a wise man. There is still hope for Gilneas."

There was an ease of tension in the air as everyone relaxed some. Jeanne bit her lip to stifle a childish giggle as Tess kicked at her feet once again and she responded in kind. The druid felt a glare burning into the side of her face and she gave Cerdic the widest, most innocent smile she could muster. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and turned back to the king.

"Are we participating in the feast tonight?"

Genn tilted his head slightly as he mulled over the question. After a few moments of thought his grey head nodded once. "I am taking only you, your siblings, and Eadrik. We cannot afford to look arrogant by bringing a full congregation."

Cerdic nodded in understanding and took another sip of his cooling tea. "What are we to do in the meantime?"

"In the meantime?" Genn shrugged. "Prepare for the worst and hope for the best."

* * *

"Is Celestine holding lessons today Tess?"

The raven-haired woman sent a sidelong glance to her crimson-haired companion and shook her head. "No. She gave us time off for the upcoming summit." Attentive eyes narrowed slightly with something akin to suspicion. "You miss sitting lessons with her, don't you?"

Jeanne laughed, a short bark-like sound. "Honestly? I do. I miss the way we would sit around the fire and she would read us the history of what we did. I miss how relaxing and mystical it felt out in the forest and learning our calling one spell at a time."

Tess hummed and spun a strand of dark hair around her finger. A wistful air surrounded the two friends as they sat near the edge of their encampment, far enough away to not be disturbed by the preparations around them. Jeanne's lips twisted in a bittersweet smile as she leaned on her palms, staring up at the canopies of green and purple leaves.

"Of course," she continued, voice heavy with memory, "There are things I don't miss in the least. Fending off the feral worgen almost every night is high on that list. Followed by how Celestine was so reluctant to push us past our comfort zone." Jeanne shook her head with a sigh. "I love that woman to death but there were so many arguments we had. She told me that it would come to me with little application and much studying but I insisted that that method doesn't work for me. It comes to me when I'm working my arse off. So we had to compromise; I have to study the texts like any other student would, but I would spar every day."

"Does it...work..?" Tess's voice was small and Jeanne turned a quizzical stare onto her. The princess fidgeted and glanced away. "I... I seem to be having the same problem..."

The worgen's face morphed in understanding. "It does for me. Well, except with healing magic, but I suppose that I cannot be amazing at everything." Tess snorted from beside her and Jeanne's smile widened. "It feels... like a piece of my being just... _slides_ into place quicker. Because I know the texts and the descriptions of every spell by heart I know which one it was and I can get a grasp on it quickly."

The worgen gave Tess a sideways look, eyes suddenly hardening in seriousness. "You need to talk to Celestine about this. You are only damaging yourself if you don't bring this to her attention."

"I..." Tess looked a little uncertain but, after a moment of contemplation, nodded firmly. "Alright. I will later tonight when you and Father are at the feast."

The worgen gave the princess a small smile and swung herself to her feet, holding a hand out to her a moment later. Tess blinked in confusion at her suddenly energetic friend.

"No time like the present to start. Come along, I know a good place to spar."

A wide smile stretched across the princess's face and her dark eyes twinkled in excitement. She grasped calloused fingers with dainty ones and allowed her companion pull her onto her feet. The two women sent slightly guilty glances behind them before sneaking away from the encampment. They did have practically the entire day to train.


	2. Unease Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions start to rise at the banquet when King Varian Wrynn arrives. Shame alcohol tends to loosen tongues and inhibitions.

"How can you change forms so easily? I struggle with my feline and my bear forms!"

"Comes naturally, I suppose. I am envious with how well you can cast both offensive spells and healing spells!"

Tess laughed wearily and playfully bumped Jeanne with her hip. "Oh, stop it! Your Starfire has one hell of a kick! I can only hope to reach the power that you have."

Jeanne grunted though a small smile danced across her lupine lips. "Did it help any?"

Tess hummed and ran a hand through her tangled onyx hair, wincing slightly when her fingers caught a snarl. "I feel... like I have a better grasp on the spells I do know. I do think it's helping...I just need more time with this method."

Jeanne nodded. "You need to tell Celestine about it tonig—"

An eerie howl echoed through the trees at that moment, cutting Jeanne off and making both women freeze. Jeanne's ears flew forward, her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned.

"That was a call," she informed a wide-eyed Tess, "We all need to get back to the Oak. Now."

The worgen dropped to all fours and glanced at the princess. "Climb on. We'll get there quicker."

Tess eyed the worgen with no small amount of trepidation. "Joan, I rather not... You're not built to carry people like some kind of animal..."

Jeanne rolled her eyes and snorted. "Tess, I'll not have you walking there alone and we're needed _now!_ Get on before I drag yer sorry arse there!"

Tess hesitated but tentatively approached the worgen. "I...I have no idea how to—erm— _ride_ you..."

Jeanne snorted and the princess's face coloured. Without another word Jeanne ducked under the woman's legs and urged her arms to wrap around her furry neck. As soon as she was secure the worgen took a few test strides, allowing Tess to make her own adjustments, and jogged back towards the Howling Oak. The scent of fear and unease of the pack hit the worgen as she got closer and she whined low in her throat. Something was very wrong.

Jeanne slid to a halt at the edge of the clearing and let a shaky Tess clamber off her back. A mass of worgen surrounded the Oak—the air buzzing with pack-speak and heavy with tension—and Jeanne had to push her way through the throng of worgen to see what was going on. The scent of blood and death hit her a second before she laid eyes on the source and her mind blanked in shock.

A worgen, a blue and grey female, was on the ground, dead. Though Jeanne's seen plenty of dead worgen, it was the manner of this one's that really shocked her; her torso was in pieces and, quite frankly, looked like she swallowed a bomb that had detonated shortly after.

"What happened..?" Tess gasped from behind her and Jeanne moved so that the princess could squeeze through.

The few worgen kneeling beside the female glanced up at her words and Jeanne identified them as the King, the priest trainer who's name escapes her, and Cerdic. Eadrik stood off behind them, ears flat and determined not to look in the body's direction.

"Eadrik found Aislinn here in some sort of magical trap," Genn grunted, "We got to her too late; Sister Almyra believes her heart exploded when she was removed."

The king stood, circled around to where Tess and Jeanne were and pulled them into rough embraces. Jeanne made a noise of surprise but ultimately allowed it; it took very little to shake the formally unshakable king since Liam... and the Storm.

"I was worried you two had suffered the same fate," he ground out, "No one had seen where you went."

"Father, it's alright. We are well," Tess soothed, stroking his arm.

Genn snorted and drew back, nodding once and clearing his throat. His steely gaze flew over the crowd of worgen until it alighted on one in particular.

"Eadrik!" the king barked and the worgen was at his side immediately. He was still tense and there was a haunted look in his hazel eyes.

"Find Archdruid Malfurion and inform him that we will be tardy to the feast. Do not give him a reason to suspect anything amiss. Be swift and _be wary_."

Without another word Eadrik launched himself into motion and bound out of sight. Jeanne lifted a lip in irritation—miffed that the king asked _him_ to deliver a message to her master—before realizing that Genn had turned back to the body.

"Jeanne, find Celestine," King Greymane ordered, "You two are needed for the burial. Meet back here."

Jeanne snorted and dove back into the crowd, letting her nose lead her to former master. The elder worgen was on the outskirts of the crowd, clearly uncomfortable with all the bodies pressing around her. Her slightly milky brown eyes lit up at the sight of her former student though dimmed when Jeanne relayed the order.

"Very well," Celestine sighed, shaking out her sleeves, "I need a few things from my dwelling. Come, you can assist and learn what you'll need for a Gilnean burial."

* * *

Without another word Celestine spun on her heel and wove her way through the crowd. Jeanne's ears flattened as she sent a glance back towards the Oak, swallowing nervously before turning to follow Celestine.

The ceremony was only long enough to do the slain worgen justice. Aislinn's family—consisting only of a brother—had been killed in the Battle of Gilneas and so Celestine had taken over the duty of bringing the mementos and dressing the body. Jeanne assisted in cleaning the wounds as best she could and wrapping old bandages around her torso to keep the remaining blood from staining the burial clothes. Sister Almyra asked the Light to treat her tortured soul kindly and help her find her peace. After that, Celestine placed one of her mementos, a small carving of the Ancient Goldrinn, in the worgen's grasp and she and Jeanne called upon their powers to urge the earth to accept the body. Celestine quietly instructed Jeanne as they went and soon the earth churned as dozens of roots wrapped themselves around the body and gently dragged it downwards, allowing the earth to settle back over like nothing had ever happened. With a little more power, the druids urged grasses to spread over top of the soft mound. As a final touch, one of the former masons had carved a simple headstone bearing the worgen's name and placed it at the head of the grave. Celestine had buried another offering, this time a simple medallion bearing an etching of Gilneas's forest, shallowly on the surface and marked the ceremony as over.

The ceremony left the young druid shaky from overexertion of her power and she gratefully took a long draw from an offered waterskin. She gave it back when enough of her power welled back up to stop her trembling and she sent a grateful whine to her former master, who only nodded her acknowledgment.

"Cerdic, Jeanne," the king called gruffly, straightening up after sending Eadrik off, "Change into your human forms. We leave shortly and we do not want to alarm any of the other races there."

With a weary sigh, Jeanne did as she was bid. A lock of her crimson hair flopped in front of her eyes and she picked it off, wrinkling her nose at how tangled it looked. A gentle tug on the rest of her hair startled her and she whipped around to meet the exasperated eyes of her twin. He lifted a brow and held up her hairbrush, a small amused smirk teasing the corner of his lip. She rolled her eyes and turned back around, allowing him to deal with her messy hair. He made short work of it, much to her disappointment—she finds the gentle tugging rather soothing—and he stowed her brush away back in his pack.

"Are you done?" Eadrik barked impatiently—having just arrived back from his short mission—and drew identical looks of annoyance from the twins.

"Peace," Genn chided before either sibling could shoot back a retort, "Lady Delroy is right to worry about appearances. First impressions are everything."

Jeanne barely squashed down the childish urge to stick her tongue out at Eadrik but did give him a small victorious smirk. His hazel eyes narrowed in dislike but not another word was said between them. The king glanced over the four briefly before turning and ordering them to follow with a wave of his hand.

* * *

 

The feast was held just outside the main city of Darnassus, a place where the trees weren't encouraged to grow. It served well for situations like this, when the entire Alliance congregated in one place to feast and discuss things of grave importance.

The sounds and smells of the feast hit the Gilneans long before it came into sight. Dozens of pairs of voices babbled and overlapped each other, mingling with the melody the elvish musicians wrought to create a rather pleasant cacophony of sound and life. The bouquet of the many foods from all over the world had Jeanne's mouth watering in anticipation and even Genn was sniffing the air eagerly.

What was felt next was the power each of the visitors possessed. One presence stood out in particular, feeling much like the power Malfurion and Tyrande possessed. Jeanne quickly ruled them out of the potential identities—they were already accounted for _beside_ the unknown individual. The way that Genn's shoulders tensed told her that she wasn't the only one who felt it. He did not slow or even hesitate his forward march, confidence oozing off the pack leader in waves. His confidence was infectious and the druid felt her companions respond to it. She herself felt her shoulders squaring, her chin lifting—as if preparing to spit defiantly into the face of her enemies.

Her gaze became watchful as they approached the feast, emerald eyes flickering over the suddenly silent crowd and taking note of the individual races and faces. Her eyes lingered on her master and his mate as Genn led them towards the center of the banquet, a sense of ease trickling through her body at the familiar faces. Her king held up his hand, an unspoken signal for them to stop, and he paced forward a few steps. Jeanne and Cerdic shared a brief uneasy glance before returning their attentions on Genn as he started to speak.

"My apologies, my delay was unavoidable." Jeanne resisted the urge to snort decisively; that was an understatement if there was one. She observed the subtle motion of his head as he looked to his right and, presumably, the person that was seated there. "You must be the Prophet Velen. I've heard much of you. I wasn't aware you'd be here. I am Genn Greymane."

Jeanne's eyes flew to the introduced being, a bolt of shock jolting through her body as she placed a face to the name. The draenei had an aura of peace and knowledge about him and his luminescent blue eyes radiated a warmth despite not having a visible iris. His alabaster and silver head dipped in acknowledgment to the introduction and he returned, "Greetings, King of Gilneas. I am also familiar with you."

Jeanne smelt Genn's scent change slightly at the dismay the title inflicted. Before he could say anything more on the matter both Malfurion and Tyrande rose as one and turned welcoming faces towards them. "Welcome, Genn Greymane! Please take your place with us!"

"Before I do, I must say something to all here."

The other leaders all shifted and began muttering among themselves, some shooting curious glances at him, the others' wary. Even Malfurion seemed a tad unnerved, if his scent and body language had anything to say upon it. Jeanne fought the urge to Change and flee to a dark corner and _away_ from all this scrutiny. A trickle of warmth and reassurance found its way into her chest from the connection in her soul and the druid's nerves calmed some.

"Please speak, Genn," Malfurion finally encouraged and the procession fell silent at his words. "We will be glad to listen."

Her king nodded. "I'll make this short. I made some terrible decisions years ago. I abandoned the Alliance for what I thought was the right course for my people. That proved to be a sorry mistake." Genn cleared his throat. "What I'm saying is that I thank you all for giving us this second chance."

With that final thought, Jeanne saw her king—one of the most prideful men she knew—bow to the other leaders. She barely caught the unspoken request to _follow_ in her shock and, before she knew it, she was squeezed in between Ammon and the Prophet Velen. Eadrik had been regulated to Genn's right and Cerdic was seated next to him. The druid shook herself out of her shocked stupor and accepted the offer of a rather juicy looking roast that made her mouth water.

Jeanne fell into old formal dinner habits and had just taken a small, almost delicate bite of her roast when she was drawn into conversation.

"You harbor a vast well of power, young druid," a calm voice commented to her right and she turned to find the Prophet Velen himself scrutinizing her.

The druid blinked in surprise and drew upon her courtly manners. "So I have been told. I am Jeanne Delroy, daughter of Anthony Delroy. I have read much about you, Prophet Velen, and I find it an honour to have the opportunity to speak to you."

The draenei dipped his head in acknowledgment of her words. "Well met, Jeanne, daughter of Gilneas." He paused and tilted his silver head slightly, as if listening to a voice only heard to him. "I do not think this is the last we will see of each other, young druid. You and your kin are destined to do great things."

Jeanne didn't know how to respond and, as if the draenei knew she wouldn't be able to answer, dipped his head once more to her and turned back into the flow of conversation, particularly with the group of dwarves seated across from them. The druid, still stunned at the brief but meaningful conversation, turned back to her own food. She kept to herself during the rest of the meal, gracefully brushing off many of Cerdic's attempts to draw her into conversation. The only thing that drew her notice was when Malfurion and Tyrande rose from the table and moved away. She looked past them and made out a pair of Sentinels looking rather nervous about something or another. When she could glean nothing from the clearly important meeting she turned back to her, surprisingly tasty, poached salmon.

A rustle of cloth beside her drew her attention and she glanced up long enough to watch Velen round the table to where a group of dark-skinned dwarves sat and engaged in conversation with them. Jeanne watched as they talked and noted how the tense, wary expressions the dwarves wore slowly melting into one of ease. A loud voice to her left tore her attention away from the group and back onto her king, who had apparently just finished a tankard of dwarven ale and was starting up on his old war glories.

"Oh bloody hell, " she muttered and, quite unladylike, leaned over the table to hiss, " _Cerdic!"_

Her brother simply shrugged in helpless answer. "He insisted on trying the ale! It's not like I can _stop_ him!"

"–none would have that!" Genn told his audience, his voice a tad too loud to be entirely sober, "We let out the Gilnean battle cry—"

"Consisting of a pleading for mercy so great the orcs no doubt turned from the lot of you in disgust." A deep, mocking voice interjected and Jeanne flinched as foodstuff flew everywhere as her king leapt up from the table to face his accuser.

"Who dares spout such a monsterous slur upon me and Gilneas? Who?"

Jeanne paused in the middle of wiping away dregs of her twin's wine off her shirt and surveyed the crowd. A commanding presence drew her attention to the path towards the portal and her body tensed when she saw who was emitting such an aura of power. Her mind quickly supplied a name to the face and her uncertainties mounted.

Before them was the king of Stormwind himself, Varian Wrynn.

Her king's outraged stare quickly locked onto the younger man. "You..."

Subtle disgust twisted the younger king's face as he looked upon his peer. "And having swayed the orcs so eloquently, you no doubt did as all brave Gilneans do so well: skulked away and hid until the battle was over..."

Outrage gripped the young druid and she made to stand, a snarl right behind her teeth, but Ammon yanked her back down. She settled with shaking in her seat, trying to tamp down the almost unconscious outflow of magic she emitted when her temper rose. Malfurion caught her eye with a small, almost unnoticeable wave of his hand and he gave her a chastising look. She felt the trees behind her settle and growled to herself, fisting her hands in her lap as she asserted control over her magic.

"High Priestess Tyrande," she dimly heard the newcomer greet politely, "Archdruid Malfurion. It's a pleasure to see you again."


	3. Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varian blatantly tells Genn his opinion of him and their people. After everything is said and done, Jeanne and a certain prince meet for the first time.

"Never—never have I nor any of my warriors acted so basely!" Genn declared, shaking with restraint. The air around him reeked of his frustration and it was enough to raise the druid's hackles. "The bravery of Gilneas—"

"'Bravery'" Varian repeated, an ever so slight sneer curling over his lips, "The definition must be different in Gilneas from what it is in most other lands... the very opposite, I'd say."

The insinuation that she and her people were nothing more than cowards boiled over the little restraint on her temper and a snarl that was a challenge rolled out of her throat. Ammon's hand was steel on her arm but the druid ignored it in favour of planting her hands on the table and standing. _Stop—_ was what the sharp look and change in scent from the pack leader ordered and she dropped back into her seat. Her chair vibrated with her pent up fury and nails dug into the skin of her palm.

Malfurion's deep voice rang over the silent yard and soothed her slightly. She was too infuriated to really pay attention to his words, instead settling for glaring at the other king. Both the arrival of another strong presence and movement tore her attention off of Varian and onto the new arrivals behind him. She examined the retinue of four guards bearing Stormwind's crest, quickly discounting them as of average power, which only left the blond boy, which she highly suspected was Varian's son, Stormwind's prince.

A trickle of bewilderment cooled the hot fury bubbling in Jeanne's chest as she scrutinized him; the boy was fairly lean to be the famed gladiator-king's son, almost delicate looking. His cheeks still had a boyish roundness to them, though she can see that the baby fat was starting to disappear to reveal sharper features underneath. The aura around him radiated calm and his very presence reminded her of only one others'.

A pair of cornflower blue eyes met hers and a spark of surprise lit them. They flicked off to her left, farther than Genn—who was trying his damnedest to remain calm—and back to her. Curiosity and intrigue replaced the surprise and she found herself echoing the same about him.

"Stormwind wants no such brother at its back!" Varian's raised tone brought Jeanne's attention back on him and her glower returned.

She watched him shake with fury and aim a bitter glare at her leader. She felt her companions steel themselves to intervene if this man decided to come after their pack leader and her own focus sharpened in response to the hostility thrumming in the air.

"I didn't ask to wear the mantle of responsibility, to become the bearer of humanity's standard! It was enough to rule Stormwind and protect my son! I did it because I had no choice! Who else was there? Not _Gilneas_!" Varian continued with a snarl that could rival a worgen's, "Stormwind, with Theramore at its side, has had to face the dangers... and now you want to come under our wing and pretend you'll stand with us _this_ time?"

"We will stand—"

"You needn't worry yourself, Greymane!" Jeanne growled to herself at how rudely he cut her king off. "Stormwind and I have done without you, without Gilneas... and certainly without the worgen... and we'll continue to do so! What you truly desire is redemption for your traitorous crimes, which you'll not get from me!"

Dismay tempered her burning anger and a prickle of worry filtered through to her brain. This wasn't going well at all, and if he refused to allow Genn a chance then she and her people were doomed.

She felt Genn tamp down his own temper long enough to state, "Gilneas was a sovereign nation. We seceded during a time of peace, not war, and for good reasons. You know that. As for the coming vote—"

Jeanne thought she saw a flash of anger run through the other king's stormy eyes before he turned his back entirely to them. "Excuse me, Archdruid and High Priestess. I will see you later..."

With a swish of deep brown hair, Varian spun on his heel and stalked off the way he came. Metal flashed as the guards loyally followed behind him but a rising aura of power and the pungent odor of angry male worgen had her whipping around to face the Pack Leader. She felt his restraints slipping and he hunched over with a low snarl. The urge to Change was almost overwhelming now and she found herself battling to keep her human guise in place. Ammon's hand found hers and squeezed tightly, keeping her grounded as Genn struggled for some grasp of control.

The change in his scent signaled that he found some and he straightened back up, chest heaving. Jeanne exhaled a shaky breath of relief and squeezed Ammon's hand reassuringly. _I'm okay—_ she told him through their connection and she felt the tingling chill of his relief.

"F-Forgive me, Archdruid," Genn murmured, weariness and regret lacing his voice, "I should've known better. I should've."

Jeanne lifted her head to regard her master, who had eyes on the old king. She quickly glanced over the table and found them all staring at him, a mixture of expressions on their faces. A heady mix of dismay and humiliation gripped her and she bowed her head, shaking with her pent up emotions.

"I suggest you return to your seat and—" Malfurion said, voice washing over the silent congregation and she glanced at Genn, who shook his head in dissent.

"No. No, I can't." The waved hand was an unnecessary formality, for they all heard the unspoken command to _follow_ as clearly as if it had been spoken. Jeanne was eager to leave the piercing eyes of the other races and swiftly slipped back into the grip of the trees. They shook slightly as she passed under them—as if trying to comfort her somehow—and she decided to take up the offer.

"Ammy," she murmured, touching her twin's elbow. He paused and stared at her in question. "I need to blow off some steam before I cock this up somehow. If Genn asks for me, tell him I'm at my normal place."

His brows furrowed though he nodded in acceptance. "Don't stay out too late. You know the gathering takes place early on the morrow."

Jeanne grimaced, giving her twin a look full of dread. "You know as well as I what's going to happen tomorrow. That man's grudge runs too deeply."

Ammon sighed and shook his head. "Just be careful, you fool. I couldn't handle it if _you_ were caught in one of those traps..."

"I will." With a last glancing touch, Jeanne turned and stalked silently though the trees towards the center of the city.

It was a day or two after Malfurion had accepted her request and started her training did he approach his mate to ask a small plot of land be set aside in the Temple Gardens for Jeanne's use. It was intended to be an exercise in control over her magic—cultivating plants and flowers took quite a bit of control and restraint, lest they die—and one that she needed desperately. He taught her the magics she would need to aid in their growth and how to direct it properly. It took her quite a few tries—and seeds—to find just the right amount of magic to pour into them each day. Once she did and her plants flourished, she found that it was something she truly enjoyed and spends most of her time there just talking to them. That breakthrough was the link she needed to truly feel connected to nature and her calling.

The druid paused at the edge of the lake that encircled the center of the city and stared up at the off-white stone bridge that spanned across most of it. She could see members of the other races milling about, going about their business, and the sudden desire to remain hidden gripped her. With a breath and a focusing of magic, Jeanne dove into the water and willed her form to change. Her underwater vision sharpened as her speed increased and she knew that she'd succeeded with the transformation. Her sea-lion form dashed through the water as easily as her worgen form over land, dodging rocks and stray plants with ease. Soon enough a familiar stretch of land loomed over her and she veered towards it. Jeanne surfaced a moment later and swam her way to the tree-lined shore. As soon as her flipper hit solid ground the magic dissipated and she staggered—in her worgen form—onto the damp grass.

With a short growl, the druid pushed into her human form and sighed as the trees greeted her with a slight shake.

"Yes, hello to you too," she muttered, patting the trunk of one before clambering over its exposed roots. "I know, I was here earlier, but I need someplace to calm myself right now."

Silence stretched over her but she felt them accept her words. A small smile flitted over her lips as she reached the center of her small garden and the flowers seemed to reach towards her. The druid gave each of them a soft pet and a trickle of magic and they settled themselves contentedly.

For a moment Jeanne contemplated planting one of her rose seeds but ultimately rejected it. The sprouts needed enough of her attention already and she didn't feel quite ready to take on that challenge.

She settled herself against a nearby tree trunk facing the other side of the decent sized island. Her garden was closest to the Temple of the Moon, just off center of the island. A 'bridge' of large stepping stones served as the only entrance to the island by land. If she positioned herself right, she could watch the comings and goings of the elvish citizens.

"Would you mind giving me a little cover, Six-spread Root?" she asked the tree behind her, "I don't wish to be seen right now."

The tree seemed to hesitate before ever so slowly moved its lowest branch—one that grew about a half a foot above her head—so that its leaves hid her from view. A small, genuine smile lifted her lips and she caressed the trunk fondly.

"Thank you very much."

Jeanne leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes, allowing her other senses to heighten. She took peace in the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves of her beloved plants, she earthy smell of the forest and the multitude of flowers around her, and the feel of so many old and powerful beings surrounding her and allowed her anger to start slipping away. It was comforting to know that these beings flow with the same energy she can control and they will come to her aid if she so willed it.

Her solitude was short lived as the plants around her shuffled a little too quickly for it to be the breeze. The familiar presence of peace and selflessness washed over her and she peeked out from between the leaves to spy the slightly glowing figure of the Prophet Velen just on the other side of the island. For a split second she wondered how he'd known where to find her before he settled himself on the ground and stilled. After a moment or two she figured out that he was simply searching for a peaceful place himself and went back to enjoying her garden.

One of her sprouts rustled and called out for her attention, which she gave almost immediately. A gentle touch and a tiny bit of growth magic was all it needed and it settled, with its slightly larger leaves, back down with the other sprouts. An amused smile was all she gave it before shaking her head and relaxing once again.

The druid was just starting to doze off when another strong presence made itself known, one that was very similar to the one that was already there. Reluctantly, Jeanne pried her eyes open and watched as a hesitant boy with golden hair pick his way over the leaf-strewn ground and approach the Prophet.

"Welcome, Anduin Wrynn," Velen greeted in a quiet voice that still carried through the trees.

Jeanne watched the boy's face and intrigue sparked when he didn't look surprised at being addressed. She felt the power his very being emitted—even from this distance—and despite her dislike for his father, she couldn't help but wonder how exactly this boy could possess such strength.

"Hello, Prophet. I—I'm sorry if I disturb you."

The draenei inclined his head slightly. "Please, the title is one given to me by others. I prefer simply _Velen_." He smoothly clambered to his feet—hooves?—and regarded Anduin with a kind expression. "Your father does not know you are here."

Jeanne's brows rose in unrestrained surprise. The princeling didn't strike her as one who directly disobeyed the word of his father. Anduin's shoulders tensed slightly and his head bowed a little. "No... he thinks I'm asleep..."

The druid's lips twitched at that; it sounded like something she used to do at his age, just to watch Cerdic tear his hair out searching for her.

"It is not for me to judge whether you should have stayed in your quarters or not. That is for you to decide."

The prince's shoulders relaxed and some of the guilt bled out of his expression at the elder's words. Resolve stilled his features a moment later. "I'm old enough to make my own choices, despite what my father thinks. I love him, but he fears so much to lose me again—or to lose me forever, as he did Mother—that he nearly smothers me. I can never be out of his sight for more than a few minutes."

Her breath hitched as his words hit a little too closely to home for her, her mind instantly bringing up memories of how many times she had to tell Cerdic off. She remembers their many arguments like it was yesterday—them having screaming matches in the middle of the Old House about how much he smothered her and his concern for her future—and was suddenly very thankful that her eldest brother had lightened up some.

"One can understand his concern... and your difficulty with it, as well."

From her position, Jeanne could only see Velen's back but she could see the young prince quite clearly. His face didn't change, filled with that same resolve and determination.

"Proph—Velen, you know why I've come here."

"You wish to speak more of the Light." He paused and continued in a slightly softer voice, "I am happy to tell you what I know, if you respect that I will not seek to guide you from your father."

The prince nodded and something in his eye made his bearing that much more regal, as if he was far older than he was. The druid stiffened as a memory of Liam, as she knew him when she was a child, giving his father a very similar look. She gave herself a small shake as Anduin's voice echoed softly through the trees.

"I wouldn't ask it. I only want to learn more." He paused and pressed a hand to his heart. "I feel the Light here. I feel it more every day. It's as much a part of me as anything else is."

"Yes. It is extremely strong where you are concerned." Velen half turned and sent a searching look in the direction she was in. Her heart froze and her body tensed, ready to change into whatever form she'd need to flee. Belatedly, the druid realized that they were between her and the way out—unless she wanted to swim again. There was a long pause and the draenei turned back to Anduin. "We can talk for a time, if you like, so long as you promise me you will return to your quarters afterward."

The wary look on the prince's face told her that he wasn't a complete dimwit and that he'd caught onto Velen's pause. His eyes flickered from the draenei to her general area and back again. "I promise... What do you sense?"

Velen's eyes crinkled in amusement and he inclined his head right in her direction. "You cannot feel her? She has been here all this time."

Jeanne's heart pounded and her cheeks flushed from being caught. Velen turned towards her proper and his voice rose, gentle yet commanding. "Come on out, young druid, and greet us properly."

Jeanne mentally swore and clambered to her feet. She whispered a hasty thanks to Six-spread Root for its shade and it lifted its branch to expose her. She ignored Anduin for now—shock and recognition written all over his face—and focused on Velen with a peeved stare.

"To be fair, Prophet Velen, I was here long before you arrived." The druid crossed her arms over her breast, shifted her weight onto her off leg, and stared at him with defiant eyes. "If anything, you two are the ones who interrupted my peace."

Velen dipped his head to her. "I apologize if that is the case, Lady Delroy. That was not our intention."

"Y-You're Gilnean..." Anduin finally stuttered out, and Jeanne had to resist rolling her eyes in exasperation, "The woman from the banquet."

"Yeeess," she drawled, acutely aware how her accent shaped and drew out the word and she examined the boy in front of her. "You're Prince Anduin Wrynn. From the banquet."

His lips twitched in amusement. "I don't seem to know what to call you, my Lady."

Jeanne cocked her head, measuring the look in his eyes. She considered the fact that he could relay anything she said to his father, but she had a feeling he wouldn't. If he kept company with the most trusted, valued figure of their time, then surely he could be trusted with something as simple as her name.

"Jeanne," she barked, coming to a decision, "Jeanne Delroy."

Anduin's eyes crinkled as he gave her a small yet genuine smile. "It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lady Jeanne Delroy."

She immediately replied, courtly manners finally kicking in, "The honour is mine, Prince Anduin Wrynn." Her gaze flickered between the two and she suddenly felt as if she was intruding on something of importance. "If you excuse me, Velen, Prince Anduin, I must be going."

Her head dipped in respect and she swiftly moved past them, ensuring that her footfalls didn't make a sound. The last thing she wanted was to be followed, especially by the gladiator king's son.


	4. Fresh Injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of the summit dawns bright. The Gilneans make their official appearance as worgen and all hell breaks loose. Jeanne is, understandably, pissed and the Prophet Velen is the one to calm her.

"We're going to be fine."

Jeanne hummed and closed her eyes at the gentle tugs on her hair. Ammon had demanded that they have some time to themselves and had taken over her morning preparations. He was currently brushing out her long hair, ensuring that he had gotten every knot out of her silky tresses. Worry, uncertainty, and nervousness thrummed along their Connection and Ammon did his best to send reassurance to his twin sister.

"Promise me that you won't kill anyone," Ammon stated flatly, tugging a strand sharply to get her attention. She flinched and threw a glare over her shoulder. "Jeanne, I mean it. I won't be there to keep you calm if things go badly."

The druid huffed and crossed her arms. "You mean _when_... I suppose I can try and contain myself."

The rogue sighed and draped some of her hair strategically over her shoulders to flow over her chest. "I suppose I could find you in the garden after?"

"Probably. I can't promise you what mood I'll be in though."

"I know."

Jeanne patted Ammon's leg and stood, stretching her cramped muscles and rolling her shoulders. A warm presence caught their attention and they looked up at their brother as he approached them with steady steps. He tossed a small smile at them and paused, looking Jeanne up and down with evaluating eyes.

"You look nice Joan," he commented, leaning over and pressing a brotherly kiss to her forehead, "As usual. Are you ready to leave?"

She bit her lip and sighed through her nose. "As ready as I'll ever be. How many are we taking again?"

He blinked and glanced over his shoulder at the mass of restless worgen. "As many as Stormwind brought. Less than a hundred but more than fifty."

"Right." The druid shifted from one leg to another and Cerdic squeezed her shoulder. She sent him a side-eyed look from under her lashes. "Keep close to me?"

"Of course," he replied immediately, slipping his broad hand to her back and gently steering her towards Genn and Eadrik. Genn greeted her with a small smile while Eadrik steadfastly ignored her. That was fine; she was perfectly content in ignoring his presence anyway.

"I trust you two will behave?" Genn asked, glancing between the two with narrowed eyes. Eadrik shot a glare in Jeanne's direction but jerked his head in agreement.

"Only if he does," Jeanne ground out, crossing her arms.

Genn merely gave her a weary look and shook his head. She could feel Cerdic's mortified stare burning into the side of her head and a tiny grain of satisfaction seated itself in her chest.

The elderly king cast a last look around the congregated Gilnean then strode forward and tugged the Gilnean banner out of the soft ground. The worgen all followed their leader as he lead them out of the Howling Oak and towards the gathering outside of the Warrior's Terrace. Both Delroy siblings took positions flanking Genn, one on each side.

As they moved closer to the gathering they could hear each of the race's national anthems playing and the sounds of their displays of ability. Genn stopped them at the edge of the forest, farther east than the gathering and its entrance. Right now Stormwind was making its entrance and Jeanne could see—in between the very capable fighters Stormwind brought—a rather stiff looking Anduin dressed in the finery of his station.

The druid glanced down at herself and fingered the loose sage green tunic she bore, a small sigh slipping out of her lips. She understood why they wore this—and she never did care for the ornate finery Cerdic favoured—but she _did_ wish that she was dressed just a little better, especially in this situation.

A rustle of cloth and Tyrande's melodious voice yanked the druid out of her thoughts and she refocused herself on the high priestess.

"Sisters and brothers of the Alliance, comrades and friends, I call for a vote to open this gathering!"

A chorus of ayes met her ears and she recoiled without a thought. Her heart sped up and she suddenly yearned for Ammon's grounding presence at her side.

"My friends," the elf continued, "It is with gratitude that the archdruid and I greet all of you! That you have chosen to join together at this summit is a true sign of hope in a troubled time."

There were murmurs of agreement and glances at one another from the crowd. Jeanne felt some of her people shift restlessly behind her.

"We have many grave matters to discuss. Many of you have suffered dearly since the madness of Deathwing tore Azeroth asunder, and are rightfully concerned that the Alliance might demand more from your people before the lands can heal themselves. I cannot promise that this will not happen."

Wary glances were exchanged and Jeanne felt herself agreeing to that; how were they supposed to retake Gilneas if her people were stretched to their limits doing work elsewhere? The subtle rustling of two of the trees over them immediately caught her attention and she felt as if that had been a signal of some sort. The druid glanced at their two hosts and startled slightly when she found her master's golden eyes peering in their direction. Jeanne blinked as the pieces fell together and she snorted softly in laughter; of course he would ask the trees that hid them to let him know when they arrived. She'd have to stow that trick away for later.

"But before we can begin those discussions in earnest, we must ensure that we do so with every possible valued member present!" Tyrande continued and Jeanne made an effort to push away her nerves; It was time. "And today we have those who would seek to become one of us, who would seek to share in our efforts to strengthen the Alliance..."

The druid squared her shoulders as a horn sounded from somewhere and her nation's anthem started to play immediately after. Pride swelled up in her chest at the notes and she found herself humming the lyrics under her breath. She smelt her people's confidence and that bolstered her own. Lifting her chin in a defiant angle, she followed her leader as he strode forward into the gathering, bearing the banner of their beloved nation. Jeanne felt the stares upon her and the people striding behind her but paid them no mind.

Genn paused before her master and his mate, giving them a nod of acknowledgment and gratitude, before taking the banner and thrusting the pole into the soft ground before them. He lifted his head and squared his shoulders, emanating an aura of strength worthy of a warrior much younger.

"Gilneas stands before you!" the king called out, deep voice ringing throughout the silent courtyard. "Gilneas stands before you to atone for its sins by offering its might to any and all of the Alliance who need it! No truer brother will there be to any in their time of distress!"

Head still high, Genn stepped back and between both siblings and they as a people fanned out to face every direction of the gathering. Jeanne scanned her section, noting that many of them gazed at her with looks of curiosity and interest. A flash of blue and gold caught her eye and she found herself meeting the intensely curious stare of Stormwind's prince. She lifted a crimson brow at him and watched in mild amusement as his cheeks pinked at being caught.

"And lest anyone think us of weak use in battle, of being unable to defend our brothers beside us, we now hope to dispel that misconception..."

Jeanne both felt and smelt the signal to _Change_ and gave into that urge that's been nagging at the back of her mind. By now she was more than used to the sound of her bones shifting and muscles stretching to accommodate her new form. Her tunic became tight over her body, though not to the point of ripping like many of the others', and she was quite thankful for it. All throughout this, her eyes never left Anduin's, and watched with no small amount of amusement as his own widened in shock and disbelief. His stare left hers to sweep the worgen around her and landed back on her. To her own surprise, the boy didn't seem horrified or disgusted at this new knowledge, but rather intrigued.

"We are Gilneas," Genn rumbled from beside her and she felt pride rise at his words, "We are the worgen..."

With that the Pack Leader threw his head back and howled, a sound that was both a signal and a display of power. As one, Jeanne and the others threw back and joined their voices with his, creating a disjointed harmony of sound when the rest of the pack joined in from deep within the forest. Her heart flew with joy at the sound when, just briefly, they were all united and singing their own songs that connected as a whole. Though it only lasted for a few seconds she felt freer and lighter than she had been in a long time.

"We humbly submit ourselves before our brethren for full membership in the Alliance..." Genn stated into the ringing silence and the young druid observed the crowd. None of them spoke—expressions of shock still etched many of their faces. Her attention snapped to Malfurion, who stood and pointed—incidentally—in her general direction. Jeanne's ears twitched back, nervous to what her master had to say.

"A few of you know the old tales of the worgen and their ferocity!" Malfurion spoke, his words ringing through the silence. "You know the stories of their unthinking evil! To both you and and those unfamiliar with the stories, what stands before you has little link to either legends or the past! These fighters of Gilneas have tamed the curse! That which was once a deadly threat is now forevermore a force for good, a force for the Alliance!"

The druid waited, body tense, as the representatives digested what they had just heard and seen and came to their ultimate judgment. She could feel the pack's nervousness around her and it was only the steadying reassurance flowing into her soul that kept her rooted there. Murmurs rose from the crowd, becoming more and more animated and a dwarf hopped to his feet, capturing everyone's attention.

"Wildhammer welcomes the strength o' the worgen...and o' Gilneas!" The dwarf called, his voice rising above the din.

A human dressed in black and violet robes immediately followed. "Theramore seconds that welcome!"

Hope rose in Jeanne's breast when many burst into applause, lifting her lupine lips and perking her ears. She saw salutes of many kinds and it took her a moment to realize that they were saluting _them_. The scent changed and the worgen had to fight back tears, for her pack was just as affected as she and, _bloody hell_ , it felt wonderful to be welcomed.

"You have witnessed the might of Gilneas and heard its request to enter back into the Alliance!" Tyrande called and brought Jeanne back to the here and now, "I say that, after seeing this display and if there are no objections, we shall begin a vote for approval _immediately_!"

The elf's glowing silver eyes swept the assembly, her gaze never lingering on any section more than the others. The atmosphere seemed agreeable enough and the worgen emitted their own sense of happiness.

"I call for a vote by acclamation!" Malfurion called, his voice loud and clear, "A single voice to acknowledge the welcome of the worgen into the Alliance! All those in favour—"

Jeanne's ears flattened habitually as a resounding chorus of ayes rang out. The sheer enthusiasm matched that of their earlier howls and the worgen found herself smiling in joy at the acceptance they showered upon them. The twisting warmth of Ammon's satisfaction oozed through their connection, though his own electric joy also filtered through. Jeanne elected to ignore the smug tone her twin had and instead exchanged a happy grin with Cerdic.

A ripple of movement and a sudden hush tore her attention back and immediately to a stone-faced Varian Wrynn. Uncertainty tempered her joy and she regarded him cautiously. He alone can turn this on its head and they all knew it. The druid hoped to everything holy that he saw past his grudge with Genn and had decided to aid her people.

"Members of the Alliance, my good night elf hosts, I'd like to speak."

Nothing in his voice revealed his intentions and Tyrande waved for everyone's attention. "Stormwind asked to speak. Please go on, King Varian."

The younger king paused, as if collecting his thoughts. Finally he spoke, voice still that unreadable tone, "Everyone knows that there's no love lost between Stormwind and Gilneas. Everyone knows why."

Jeanne's ears folded at the utter silence that fell upon them all. Ammon sent a questioning and confused feeling through their connection but she ignored it to study the other king's scarred face. A flash of movement behind the elven hosts caught her eye for a second, dismissing it after it proved only to be a Sentinel. Tyrande heeded the she-elf's appearance and left Malfurion in charge of the proceedings. Briefly, the worgen wondered what was so urgent to call the high priestess off when Varian's voice once again rose on the still air.

"The benefit that an ally such as Gilneas offers us is obvious. While our skills in combat more than match those of the orcs and their allies, there's always been a hunger that the Horde has thrived upon that we—so civilized—no longer seem to have. The worgen offer us that righteous hunger to overcome all obstacles in battle, to keep the Alliance from splintering or merely sitting back as the orcs take one land after another..."

Despite herself and her doubts, Jeanne could feel her hope rise at his words. She could feel similar surprise from her pack mates.

"I considered damned long and hard on this, I promise you," Varian continued, "Such an ally can help us easily hold the Horde's ambitions at bay, maybe even push them back!" The younger king gestured at Genn and the pack, "An ally of such honour, of such courage, I'd be more than pleased to fight beside!"

Cheers broke out and some of her pack mates howled in joy. Jeanne felt faint in relief, the scent of the others' relief and joy almost overpowering everything.

Varian turned to Malfurion. "Archdruid! You called before for a vote by acclamation, a vote I interrupted! My apologies for letting that happen! I meant to ask to speak sooner..."

Jeanne barely heard his apologies, so overwhelmed with relief she was. Her people finally had a place in the world! A place in the Alliance where they can prove themselves and make their own way! No longer were they to be refugees, outcasts and exiles! She should have trusted Malfurion's judgment!

"I would be happy to call for it again, King Varian—"

"That won't be necessary." Her happy gaze snapped back to him and stuttered at the look in his eye. Like watching the sun disappear behind storm clouds, the younger king's expression darkened and a resentful glimmer sparked in his eyes.

Varian spat in Genn's direction.

"Calling for it again would be a waste of time," he snarled and shock flooded her entire being, "for I'd never give consent to allow these mongrels into the Alliance!"

Betrayal and a blinding fury hit Jeanne like a stag and burst through the tight restraint she had on her magic. The trees shook around them as shouts of offense rang through the air. The druid could feel the plant life heed her call and, for a split second, she entertained the idea of allowing her magic to do as it pleased. A heavy mass hit her from her left and she habitually turned to snap at them. Her brother bore his teeth in frustration and cuffed her with a heavy hand.

" _Stop!"_ he growled into her ear, giving her a rough shake. That and the weight of Malfurion's stare on her as he asserted his own magic on the foliage was enough for Jeanne to regain a shred of her control. Cerdic relaxed slightly at the wane of magic in the air and Jeanne forced herself to focus enough to hear the words being shouted.

"—I've already said to many, I find nothing worthy, nothing honourable in this pack of hounds... and so I will never vote aye to their admission back into the fold!"

With that, Varian spun on his heel and marched out of the summit with his guards on his heels. Chaos erupted around them and the young druid fought to keep the little control over her boiling fury.

"Come," Cerdic growled into her ear, taking her elbow and yanking her around to the entrance. "There's nothing for us here."

She agreed wholeheartedly and so she followed her pack back into the trees, where they blended into the shadows. The foliage shook with her passing but this time she could not— _would not—_ take comfort in their presence. She needed to do something with her pent up fury and needed to do it _now_.

Her ears flickered at the thunder that rolled through the forest—surely Malfurion's way to grab everyone's attention again—and she abruptly changed direction. She could feel Cerdic's frustrated glare on her but she ignored it in favour of bolting towards the nearest path towards the lake. The druid didn't even bother slipping into her sea lion form, instead diving in as she was and paddling towards her island where she could get a bit of solitude to unleash her fury upon.

The worgen dragged herself up the shore, shook herself mostly dry, and stood up. For a moment she just stood there, observing the goings of nature, before her rage hit her once again. With a snarl, she grabbed ahold of her magic and launched a tangle of roots and vines into the water. Frogs scrambled away, screeching in fear and the water sparkled where it rippled.

A tiny grain of satisfaction lodged in her chest as she heard the sounds of alarmed wildlife and she sent another round of roots shooting into the water. The trees around her bent, as if frightening animals, in response to her anger and the flowers grew twice, three times their size and waved threateningly; they sought the source of her fury to eliminate it. Jeanne's muscles shook in tiny tremors as she launched spell after spell into the water. It wasn't long until her magic ran dry and, with it, the forest around her relaxed.

The druid snarled wearily, still feeling the burn of anger in her breast, and she spun on her heel to stalk farther into the foliage of her island. Her sprouts cried out for her but she ignored them, instead stalking to Six-spread Root and stopping before it.

"Mind letting me sit in your branches?" she asked it, struggling to keep a polite tone to it—they tend to respond best to kindness. It shuffled its branches but did nothing, giving her its answer.

Jeanne gritted her teeth, her patience thinning by the second. "Alright. Could you at _least_ grant me a bit of privacy?"

With a rustle that sounded suspiciously like a sigh it moved its branches lower, surrounding her with its leaves and granting her the privacy she asked for. She patted its trunk in thanks and curled up at the base of its trunk. Her hands still shook with her anger and she fisted them, relishing in the slight pain her claws brought to the pads of her hands.

"Was a bloody fool to trust the word of that man," she snarled under her breath, "Bloody mongrels indeed! The wanker has less honour than—"

She cut herself off with an infuriated snarl, snapping her teeth at the air in agitation. Six-spread Root shook above her, an effort to either calm her down or to tell her to knock it off. She sent a peeved glare up at the tree but said nothing, instead folding her arms and leaning against the trunk with a huff. Like the previous day, her solitude was cut short as she felt the warm presence of a certain draenei approach.

"Can I not get a bloody _moment_ of peace?!" she snarled to herself, leaping to her feet and stalking out, intent on finding another place where she can sit and stew on her anger.

"I thought I would find you here, young druid," Velen's voice gave her pause and she turned to shoot him a heated glare.

"My garden _is_ planted here, Prophet Velen," she ground out, struggling to rein in her temper enough to play at politeness. "I find that plants offer better company than people."

The draenei's alabaster head tilted slightly, as if intrigued by her words. There was an expectant pause in the air and, combined with the aura of trustworthiness he emitted, had words tumbling out of her mouth.

"How dare he!" she spat, balling her fists up in newfound anger, "He's no better than us! How dare he tell us that we have no place when he himself abandoned his own kingdom at one point! Most of us had no say in the matter! I for one was an infant when all of this was decided! He just condemned an entire people, _my_ people, to starvation and death! And I can do _nothing about it!"_

Frustration choked her throat closed and her entire body shook. Her chest heaved as if she'd run a marathon.

"Peace," Velen soothed, slowly approaching her. She bridled at the close proximity but his aura of calm and wisdom eventually had her dropping her guard. He gently set a long-fingered hand gently on her brow and a soothing warmth emanated from it. Jeanne's body relaxed despite the frustration and betrayal churning in her gut.

"You have so much anger for one so young," he murmured, drawing back to give her a proper look over. "You are right to feel angry and betrayed; these events have not turned out well for your people. But you also need to find your peace with them, for if you do not it will destroy you from the inside out."

His words confused her and her ears folded. Wisdom swirled in his softly glowing eyes and he gave her a knowing look.

"I am called away elsewhere. I do not think that this will be the last time we meet, Jeanne Delroy. I think that there is much for you and your siblings."

The worgen opened her mouth to inquire further when another, similar presence quickly approached. Both she and Velen turned to see Anduin stride in, a contemplative look on his young face and a hand rubbing his arm. Her previous anger returned, though not aimed at him personally but what he represented, and she watched him with narrowed emerald eyes. His cornflower blue eyes flicked upward and his expression stuttered in surprise at the sight of the worgen. He quickly took her in, gaze finally meeting her eyes and narrowed in scrutiny.

"Lady...Delroy?" he identified slowly and her lips thinned in response.

Without so much as a nod of acknowledgment, Jeanne slipped past him and started towards the other end of the city. There was a beat of silence—save the rustling of the trees above them—before Anduin's voice cut through the silence.

"Not everyone shares my father's opinion, you know." His words, delivered in a quiet but firm tone, gave her pause. Her ears swiveled back towards him, the only thing indicating that she was listening. "My father tends to live in the past and dwell on past hurts. I have heard of Genn Greymane's previous arrogant nature and even I can see he has changed. You and your people deserve a chance to prove yourselves worthy members of the Alliance."

Silence stretched over them, taut like a drumhead. Jeanne heard Anduin gather up breath and, for reasons unknown to her, she waited for him to speak his peace.

"For what it's worth... I think it would be nice to get to know you and your people. Good luck, Lady Jeanne, and I wish you peace."

Jeanne flicked her ears back in surprise and turned around to give him a measuring look. He met her gaze head on and, after a few moments, she was the one that glanced away first.

"May the winds be at your back, Anduin Wrynn," she murmured, hearing a sharp intake of air at her gravelly voice before slipping into the shadows of the forest. The worgen dropped down to all fours and loped away, feeling as if something had clicked into place. But for the life of her she could not figure out what.


	5. Hunting For Peace... and Catching It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worgen hunt to blow off some steam and to feed the pack. An unwelcome visitor arrives in the form of Varian Wrynn and challenges them.
> 
> After, a humbled king comes to them, seeking help to control the beast within him.

"Where were you?!"

Jeanne bared her teeth in annoyance but didn't back down from her eldest brother's worried bark. Cerdic growled irritably and stalked up to her, towering over the smaller worgen. Jeanne met his glare squarely with her own, her ears laid flat in irritation.

"Do you realize how worried I was when you went off on your own?!" he rumbled, eyes narrowing at her defiance, "You could've been caught in one of those bleeding traps!"

"But I wasn't," Jeanne snarled back, quickly tiring of this, "I was in my garden. In the _middle_ of the city."

Cerdic snorted but dropped the attack; it was highly unlikely the perpetrator would set one where _anyone_ could fall prey to it. It didn't matter to the druid—she'd lost whatever peace she found walking back—and she turned her back on her brother to head back into the forest.

"Where are you going _now_?" Cerdic asked in exasperation.

"Away." Jeanne growled, not even pausing in her stride.

"Jeanne," a different, deeper voice cut in and the druid froze in her tracks. The pack leader's voice was tight in restrained frustration, though she sensed it wasn't aimed at her, and her ears flicked to show she was listening. "We go on a hunt soon. Will you join?"

A hunt? Jeanne's mouth watered at the thought of fresh meat, torn right off of the carcass, and she nodded her agreement. Genn sniffed noisily—a habit all the worgen have now—and snapped his teeth.

"We leave at dusk." There was a weighty pause and he continued in a chastising tone. "And heed your brother, Jeanne. He wasn't the only one concerned for your welfare."

With a near inaudible swish, the pack leader left and all three siblings were left standing outside of the great tree. The tense silence was broken by soft footsteps approaching Jeanne and the worgen didn't have to turn to know whom it was.

A pale, warm hand gripped her elbow and she glanced down into her twin's gentle expression. A small, relieved smile played on his lips as he gave her a look over and he patted her arm fondly.

"Glad you're okay, Joanie," Ammon murmured, lifting a hand to tap at his chest. "Felt you needed some time alone."

Jeanne's ears drooped as a prang of guilt shot through her heart. "I didn't mean to cause you pain..."

His lips twitched upward. "Was nothing I couldn't handle. Takes more than that to kill me."

Jeanne snorted, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "Masochist."

Ammon laughed outright and shook his head, not bothering to give that an answer. "Come on, Tess's been asking for you since the pack got back."

Jeanne allowed him to steer her inside—a silent but stewing Cerdic following them—and towards to where the impatient princess sat.

* * *

There were deer. Many deer, all for the taking. The musky, dirty scent was enough to make any worgen's mouth water with anticipation and their senses go wild.

Jeanne was no different.

With long mane messily plaited—it had been neat when Ammon first put it up—she ran with the rest of the Royal 'court', made up of her, Cerdic, Genn, his two additional guards, and Eadrik. Some 'commoners' decided to tag along, for the hunting was good tonight. The druid could think of nothing more satisfying than being surrounded by her most trusted packmates and all hunting prey with a single purpose.

It was liberating. Freedom, in this moment, was not a lofty concept, but rather a feeling, a sound, a smell. The feeling of the earth beneath her paws, the wind whipping through her fur, the sound of their bodies weaving through the foliage, and the scent of worthwhile prey in her nose.

The way her rational mind slipped behind that primal, wild mindset—that echoed a tad too close to that foggy, jumbled flashes of memory of her time Feral—should have been disconcerting to her, but the sense of _peace_ that it provided was needed too badly to ignore.

Right now, though, the young druid had a healthy doe's trail and she was not giving until she had her prey's blood coating her tongue.

Trees and brush flashed past the worgen, almost too fast for her to hear their calls to her. The sense of _welcome_ the forest poured surrounded the worgen like a warm hug, loving and compassionate. The more rational side of her relished in it, but the dominate, primal part used it to its advantage.

 _Where?_ She asked the forest, the low growl of pack-speak torn away by the wind.

 _Almost there._ It replied with shaking branches and creaking trunks.

The doe, reeking of panic, crashed through the underbrush just ahead of the she-worgen without care. She was hot on its tail and looking for that one slip up that would doom her prey. The worgen nearly didn't catch the tell-tale signs of another until they almost rammed into her.

She made the leap too early—a desperate attempt to save her hunt—but landed just short of the doe's white rump. She could feel her claws graze shallow furrows into it before a panicked kick sent her flying.

She landed in a tangle of limbs and leaves, dizzy and stunned. The shooting pain in her chest had her gasping and furious, and left her with no choice but to lay there until her vision stopped spinning. The unknown worgen—more than likely one of the commoners—whimpered apologetically before resuming his own hunt. The rational part of her mind took over enough to snarl the words of a healing spell and slipping back when the pain ebbed enough for her to move.

Another scent invaded her nose, along with others of her pack, and she decided to pursue it; If only to complain to her brother about the other worgen that had ruined her hunt. Rolling to her paws, she leapt into a brisk trot, ears and eyes alert for the stag. The wind changed direction at the same time the forest shook around her.

The stag burst out of the brush ahead of her, startling her. Jeanne took a chance and leapt at its throat, teeth and claws bared. It snorted and swung its hind end around to bolt in another direction. Snarling, the she-worgen scrambled after it, feeling the presence of her kin and the Pack Leader behind her.

Her blood kin barreled past her, longer limbs making it possible, and he growled at her, _follow close; my kill_. With a snort she obeyed, falling behind the Pack Leader when he growled out a similar message to her. She kept close on his trail, ignoring the irritable quips of the others as they tried to outpace her.

A startled yip from her brother up ahead and the appearance of a new scent startled her and she forced her legs to pound faster.

"Varian Wrynn!" the Genn snarled and she slid to a halt behind him. Chest heaving, Jeanne's rational mind took over and she gave her brother a quick look over. With the exception of a few minor injuries he was well, if only startled. He gave her a reassuring flick of his long ears and they all focused on the unwelcome newcomer.

"You've got a lot of gall coming here!" he continued, Changing and giving the bow the younger man carried an angry wave. "Fire away! You've already more or less struck me through the heart! My people will suffer for your choice—"

Varian lowered his bow, a scowl on his face. "I'll not waste an arrow on you. Bad enough you've ruined my hunt! Did you hope to convince me to change my mind by coming here?"

"You talk madness!" Genn barked and Jeanne's ears instinctively laid back in response to his sharp tone. "We always hunt here! You're not far from our encampment and you know it!"

The forest rippled slightly and the worgen glanced up at the trees. Malfurion's presence surrounded them and the druid bowed her head in respect to her master.

"Where are you, Archdruid?" Varian shouted, looking around the forest. Amusement lifted Jeanne's lips a hair as she watched him. Can he not feel him, as powerful as the human king is? "You think this funny?"

"'Archdruid'?" her king echoed, confused.

Malfurion emerged out of the shadows of the forest, as silent as a worgen. Jeanne nodded to him and he acknowledged it with his own.

"I do not find anything humourous about the last few days' events," he asserted and the two leaders spun around to face him. "As for Genn and the other worgen hunting here, the knowledge had completely slipped my mind."

There was a few moments of silence where they sized up Malfurion's story. Jeanne and Cerdic shared a look behind their backs, coming to a silent agreement before turning and watching Varian with narrowed eyes.

"This area is too crowded for hunting, Archdruid," the younger king finally spoke and the siblings relaxed slightly. "And I've lost my taste for it, anyway."

"Good," Genn grumbled, disdain colouring his voice, "You'd probably end up blundering into us over and over as you go stomping through the forest, scaring off all the game..."

"There'll never be a day when I can't outhunt you or any of your dogs, Greymane," Varian retorted hotly, taking a threatening step towards Genn. Jeanne and the rest of the pack bristled at the insult.

"Ha! One of our younglings could catch a buck faster than you! As for me, I could take down a dozen before you managed to kill even one with those puny little bolts!"

"Always big with the boasts, but never able to follow through with them—"

"If I might intercede," Malfurion cut in, stepping in between the two arguing monarchs. "There is little point in such words unless you have the wherewithal to prove your own case."

"That's always been the trouble with Greymane—"

"Spoken like the self-righteous—"

A thunderclap shook the trees and Jeanne's ears flattened instinctively. She knew Malfurion would never harm them but the instinctual fear of storms still took the bluster out of her.

"As I said, there is little point in braying at one another without being able to justify those words. Perhaps it is time to show what, if any, strength lies behind them."

Malfurion's ultimate goal suddenly dawned loud and clear on Jeanne and the worgen felt a bead of hope rise in her chest.

"What're you talking about?" Varian snapped, ignoring Genn's nod of agreement towards him.

"You could both go your separate ways and continue this endless argument... or you could put some conclusion to your disagreements by seeing who does have the better skill."

"You think to throw us together," Genn snarled back, "and make us see each other in a different light! Ha! I know this one well enough—too well, after his damning words...!"

"Damning in their truth," Varian snapped, "But I'll agree with Genn on your intentions, Archdruid... and also agree that it won't work."

"Then, the two of you have nothing to fear."

"It has nothing to do with fear," Genn grumbled, "Damnation! Even if I deigned to hunt with this one around, he'd be stumbling over everything..."

The elder king growled under his breath and Changed back, giving the signal that they were to continue, "Now forgive me, Malfurion, but we've lost enough time. We don't hunt for sport. We _hunt._ "

 _Come; follow,_ the Pack Leader commanded before dashing off with a rustle of sound. Dutifully, the rest of the pack followed, Jeanne and Cerdic bringing up the rear. Cerdic snorted and nudged her with a wet nose.

"Gotta catch up," he huffed and Jeanne nodded in understanding. He nipped at her ear tenderly before leaping into a fast trot. The druid watched him go and sniffed at the air hopefully. The scent of a rabbit caught her attention for a second before another, larger figure dashed in front of her. She recognized the tail of dark brown hair and growled to herself.

"Jeanne." Malfurion's voice startled her slightly. She spun around and huffed at the sight of her master.

"Shan'do."

He gave her a scrutinizing look. "You have not been handling this well." It was not a question.

The worgen snorted, a bitter grimace twisting her lips. "No."

An edge of disappointment tinged his gaze. "Even so, you must have absolute control over your power at all times, no matter your emotions. I cannot always be there to sooth the damage you have done."

Jeanne glanced away, shame blooming in her breast. "I am aware of that, Shan'do. Truly."

"Then try _harder_." Malfurion's stare bore into hers. "I know it can be done. You must take your exercises with the utmost seriousness and only then will you see improvement."

Jeanne's ears folded, her patience wearing thin. "I know..."

With a final look, the night elf nodded. "Go. we will continue later."

With a respectful bow, Jeanne bound off, mentally cursing her master for keeping her so long. She had a lot of distance to make up.

The worgen paused to take in a deep draw of air, identifying the lingering scent of two hunters; the last two she'd want to meet. With a sigh, Jeanne bound off after it, knowing that wherever Eadrik is, Genn and the pack was not far away.

* * *

Not for the first time, Jeanne thanked her long, lean limbs and her sleek body for its speed. Though there had been quite a bit of distance between her and the pack, she could finally smell them up ahead and the prey they were chasing. It was the accompanying scent that had her wary, the pungent, musky scent that was Varian Wrynn mingled with Genn's walnut and the acrid stench of fear from the boar.

Jeanne pushed herself harder once she caught sound of the others pounding up ahead, ignoring the burning ache in her limbs and lungs. She vaguely caught wind of harsh words up ahead, most likely between Genn and the rival hunter, but they dashed off before she could catch up. With an irritable growl, Jeanne raced along with the pack—finally catching up to the bulk of them.

Cerdic's scent floated to them, mingled with Varian's and the boar's. They burst out of the dense foliage in time to see her brother try and leap onto the boar, who was incidentally trying to escape in their direction. The foliage behind Varian shook and a bear burst out of it. It stood on its hind legs and roared out a challenge. In a flurry of motion, Varian shot an arrow at the black beast, only catching it in the shoulder as it turned to focus on the nearest enemy.

And a horrified Cerdic was its target. Not able to dodge the bear's massive paw, the worgen tumbled head over paws into the nearest bunch of trees and lay motionless.

"CERDIC!" Jeanne wailed and her rational mind plunged into her wellspring of magic and chanted a spell. Her limbs bulked and her body morphed to a new shape, and before she knew it she was barreling into the other bear with an almighty _crash!_ An enraged bellow tore from her maw as she clawed the much bigger bear in a desperate attempt to protect her kin.

A bolt lodged itself beside her head, sinking into the black bear's thick chest and serving only to enrage it more.

"JEANNE!" Genn shouted from somewhere behind her, a challenging snarl garbling his words, "Get your brother out of here!"

Giving the bear a last bat on his ears, the druid obeyed immediately, throwing herself back and Changing. She seized her brother's wrist and, with the help of another, drug him farther into the safety of the forest.

Roars of pain and enraged howls followed them and they settled in a place near enough to see what was going on but far enough for them to be out of the way.

"Bloody moron!" Jeanne hissed, dropping her bloodied brother down on a soft patch of grasses. He whimpered with agreement and gritted his teeth when Jeanne parted the thick fur covering his chest to get to his wounds.

"Keep watch," she snarled to their silent companion, turning back to her brother and softly chanting the spells of healing. With excruciating slowness, the bleeding was staunched and started to close. The druid took in another deep breath and repeated the chant, willing it to close her brother's torn skin.

The wounds had just finally closed when a louder, agonized roar caught their attention and the two upright worgen watched as both powerful leaders were thrown off the bear. The bear swatted at something sticking out of its neck—belatedly, Jeanne realized it was the human king's dagger hilt. A moment later it collapsed onto all fours, still rocking its massive body as it tried desperately to bite at the knife. The worgen watched as Genn carefully approached the bear, who paid him no mind, and deliver the killing blow—a mercy kill. With a final moan, the bear fell onto its side and was no more.

Huffing an impressed and weary breath, Jeanne stood and heaved Cerdic onto his feet. He swayed a bit, the exhaustion of the intense hunt catching up to him and the druid immediately ducked under his arm. With a grateful grunt, they staggered towards the main bulk of the hunting pack.

"A quick killing blow," Varian complimented, which had Jeanne turning in shock at his words. The aura around the human, not noticeable to her before, had Jeanne's eyes narrowing in scrutiny. It was one she only felt once before, in her vision-dream back in Gilneas, and she snorted in disbelief. Just bloody peachy, Varian Wrynn was blessed by none other than Goldrinn.

"I simply finished your work," Genn returned, a touch of reverence in his tone. "The kill in yours. The hunt is yours."

The human shook his head. "Hardly. I was hunting a boar."

Genn's head inclined slightly and wisdom flickered in his grey eyes. "A man who hunts a rabbit and brings down a deer is applauded. A man who hunts a boar and brings down a bear should be acclaimed."

With that, Genn tilted his head skyward and unleashed a loud howl, a howl meant to honour the kill and the hunter who had made it. Around her, the others took up the call, though the druid did not join in. Instead, she watched the human's features screw up in an indescribable emotion, turn and slip into the shadows of the forest. In the face him retreating when they were honouring the king's accomplishment in besting the bear, it was like a blow to the chest. Jeanne's eyes screwed shut as the cries of surprise rang out at the man's disappearance; he had just sealed their fate.

When she opened them again she found Genn staring in the direction Varian slipped off in, a look of complete shock and defeat on his lupine features. They waited many moments for the Pack Leader to give some kind of command. When none was forthcoming, Cerdic cleared his throat and suggested in a low tone that carried over the assembled pack.

"Can those who brought their knives and packs start skinning the kill to bring back? The rest of you can help with the portioning and packing it away. What we cannot carry back will be left for the scavengers."

There was a moment of hesitation before the pack obeyed. The knives flashed silver in the moonlight as owners tugged them out of belts and soon enough the air was heavy with the scent of blood. Jeanne, after a moment of watching them start to cut at the bear's hide, moved to join them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cerdic limp over to Genn and speak to him quietly. With a ripple of movement, the Pack Leader shook himself out of his stupor and, after being informed of what was going on, moved to help where he could.

* * *

There were yips of welcome when the hunting party finally returned to the Howling Oak, the scent of blood indicating that they had been successful. They quickly quieted when the somberness of their movements were noted, cries of inquiry filling the air instead. All of them ignored the questions, instead staying silent until they had walked underneath the raised roots of the Oak. The ones carrying the kill plodded over to the cooks at the cooking fires and gave them the meat for that night's meal. The rest of the hunting party stumbled towards the stream of water surrounding the encampment to clean the dirt and blood that had long dried into fur and underneath claws. Jeanne was one of them, her light silver fur making the grime contrast sharply. She felt Cerdic's presence next to her and they shared an exhausted look. The male scrubbed at the matted fur over his chest, grimacing at the rivers of ruddy brown that streamed from it. Jeanne huffed at the sight, shaking her head in exasperation.

"How is it that you're the one who always gets hurt?" she asked him quietly and he snorted.

"I cannot help that I'm accident prone, Joanie," he replied with a small grin. She huffed again, casting him a peevish glare.

"Be more careful then! You were lucky I was there to heal you!"

Cerdic paused, sighed, and patted his sister's head affectionately. "Yes I was. I can always count on you and Ammon to have my back."

Jeanne swatted his hand away, a halfhearted snarl bubbling from her throat. "If we weren't, you'd be long dead. Or at least crippled."

Before Cerdic could reply to that, a series of low yips grabbed their attention. It was a call to the King, who was standing in the center of the encampment. The siblings heeded the call, coming to rest before their leader. Ammon joined them, escorting the Queen and Princess and taking his place on Jeanne's other side. The rest of the pack came, filing in as word of the King's summons spread.

Genn had a conflicted and resigned air about him and set Jeanne's tired nerves on edge. She had feeling that his words had much to do with the hunt and the human king's retreat.

"My people," he began when all were assembled, "we are not welcome among the Alliance. The gathering and tonight's hunt made that clear to me."

The King paused and gave them a brief look over. He then proceeded to tell them what had transpired, from the initial confrontation with Varian and Malfurion to the moment he realized the human king had indeed followed them. He then told them about a second confrontation and the chase of the boar. Genn ended with the bear surprising them—Cerdic shuffled uncomfortably when his part was told—how Varian and him worked together to defeat it, and them honouring Varian for besting such a monumentous prey only to find that he had slunk off.

"Varian Wrynn has made it perfectly clear that he does not, will not, recognize us as part of the Alliance," Genn stated, voice gruff with defeat, "We cannot burden our elven allies further than we already have. At dawn we will start the preparations to leave this place."

Murmurs broke out at the conclusion of his speech and there were a flurry of emotions on everyone's faces.

"Where will we go?" One worgen piped up. "This was supposed to be our home until we reclaim Gilneas!"

Genn spread his hands out imploringly. "We will find somewhere else to settle and gather resources. I cannot tell you where that'll be."

The pack shuffled at that, weary looks passing between them. The worgen king's shoulders hunched, as if the knowledge was a physical weight on them, and he shook his head slowly. His somber grey eyes landed on the trio of siblings and he turned to them, every movement drawn out tiredly.

"Jeanne," he said upon reaching them, "Can you locate the Archdruid? I must speak to him."

With a tired sigh, Jeanne tugged on the magical bond she had to her master—one all druids have to each other, not noticeable until tugged upon—and she found his location soon enough.

"He's in the Temple of the Moon," she said after a moment, tilting her head as she double checked. "Yes, that's where he's at. Probably with the high priestess."

The king bowed his head in thanks and, without another word, slipped off in the direction of the city. They watched him leave and, after he disappeared into the forest, turned to each other with empty looks.

"Come," Mia murmured, breaking the heavy silence, "Have some tea with Tess, Ammon and I."

Jeanne gave the elderly woman a weary smile and, as a group, dragged themselves to their corner table, where a tea set still sat.

* * *

They started at dawn. There was a flurry of activity as the worgen began to pack things up. The horses they'd brought from Gilneas—most of them Jeanne recognized as being from Lorna's herd—had to be wrangled in to serve as transportation of both people and belongings. The druids and stablemasters were sent on that task, the former used to calm the animals while the latter looped a length of rope around their necks and leading them off.

The rest of the pack were slowly gathering up belongings, packing them in whatever bags they could land their hands on. There were a few who had braved town and bought satchels to distribute to the people who couldn't otherwise afford their own.

Then there were Genn's aides, which the Delroy siblings were part of. The King himself tasked them with keeping things moving at a steady pace and helping wherever they could. A dejected, defeated air blanketed the encampment, drawing out the process even longer. Jeanne could hardly fault them for the sluggish pace they had; she herself felt rather depressed at these turn of events. Though the druid had suspected there be some resistance, she never thought that it would get this bad. Even Cerdic, her ever optimistic brother, seemed quieter today, merely offering small smiles instead of the jokes and laughs that he always gave. Ammon was in a foul mood, offering nothing in terms of conversation and she felt his anger simmering along their connection.

Currently, Jeanne and Ammon were in the middle of assisting an older worgen who had taken a rather stubborn horse to try and pack her belongings on. Jeanne was holding his head, murmuring soothing things in his ear while Ammon and the elder quickly strapped more and more things to his back. It seemed to work, as the spirited stallion gentled at the druid's touch and they managed to fit all of the crone's possessions onto him. She gave them a short bow in thanks and, taking his head, lead him away.

The twins sighed when she was a far enough distance. Jeanne glanced around the encampment, noting that many people were slowing more and more as the day went on. Their grief struck a chord a little too close to her heart, reminding her of the evacuation after Liam— _stop that_. She'd managed to keep him out of her waking thoughts so far, even though his death had hit her hard. She _cannot_ lose herself to grief, not again. The last time she'd done that was after her parents' death and it had taken Celestine a long time to draw her out of it. She knew those around her grew concerned for her lack of grieving, but they did not hear nor see the silent tears she shed for him late into the night. The ring she wore on her neck felt so heavy with the weight of her guilt and grief in those moments.

So caught up in her memories, Jeanne missed the sudden arrival of a now familiar presence until Genn's shocked voice had uttered his name. Both siblings spun around to where the worgen king had been supervising only to find the human king standing before him. He'd looked a lot better, Jeanne noted quietly, when he was chasing the boar with them. Then, he'd had an aura of fierce confidence and determination, along with Goldrinn's. Now he had a more somber, remorseful air about him, and that disturbed Jeanne a lot more than his hot defiance.

"You left," Genn rumbled, an edge of condemnation sharpening his tone. "We honoured you and you simply left. I sought word of you from Darnassus, but the archdruid only said not to worry, that you needed time to yourself."

A flurry of emotions crossed the human's face, too quickly to pin down. "He was right. I had much to consider... and when I was done considering all of it, I knew that I had to find you and your people again."

Disbelief bloomed in the druid's chest, followed by a small seed of hope. She was quick to squash it, for this was Varian Wrynn they were dealing with.

Genn was of the same opinion, apparently, snorting disbelievingly and regarding him with narrowed eyes. "You want something of us? What? We've nothing. No land, no gold. You have everything. Everything."

"Not everything. I need your help Genn."

The worgen king stared at him blankly and the twins echoed his sentiment. By now, more of the pack had taken notice to their unexpected visitor and were subtly watching for any sort of danger. Jeanne nudged her twin and bent down to whisper in Ammon's ear, not taking her eyes off of the pair, "Get Cerd". Ammon slipped away without a word, leaving the other to watch over their father-figure.

"How can I possibly help _you_?"

"I know something about the worgen curse and the—ferocity—of it... but you and yours control that _urge_ , not give in to it."

"Ah!" There was understanding in Genn's voice. Jeanne blinked, a heady mix of dismay and sympathy twisting in her chest. She'd completely forgotten that part of his personal history, where his personality was split in two physical forms and then squashed back together. "I always wondered how anyone could survive what you did and stay intact inside."

"I didn't." Varian fidgeted, blue eyes darting away and coming back to look at Genn again. "Tell me what you did."

She felt both her brothers' presence materialize beside her and she felt a little more at ease. It was reassuring to have backup in case things turned ugly, though she now doubted they would. Varian was not here to stir up trouble this time.

"It's not as simple as that, my friend. You have to be willing to look deep within yourself, find your balance..."

"I'll fight a hundred orcs barehanded, if that's what's needed—"

Genn laughed sadly and the two worgen siblings had to agree. That would be so much simpler than the actual process.

"Trust me from experience. That might be simpler." Genn echoed their thoughts exactly and he shook his great head. "We lost several before we were shown the correct ritual by the night elf Belysra Starbreeze. They were consumed by the curse, became beasts without hearts, without souls." Genn's voice became heavy with memory. "We had to put them down. The ritual is still fraught with danger. Now and then, there are those who do not survive it."

Jeanne's ears flattened as the last one they'd lost came to mind. He'd regressed on a hunt and no matter what they did they could not bring him back. She remembered watching in horror as some of the largest males, Cerdic being one of them, had to hold him down while Genn tore out his throat. It was a sad day for all and they had buried him shortly after.

"Better I die trying than to keep on like I am, Genn. I've lost my wife and now my son. Anduin may be gone forever and it's because of me..."

A spark of recognition jolted through the she-worgen. So that was why the princeling had sought out the Prophet Velen.

"I lost a son as well," the worgen leader murmured, an edge of grief on his words. Jeanne's chest seized and her hands fisted at her sides. Please don't go into this. Anything but this. "Although Liam is gone forever, killed saving my life from a poisoned arrow fired by the Banshee Queen, Sylvanas, when we sought to retake Gilneas City." Genn broke off and shook his head sadly. "I don't downplay what's happened between you and your boy. 'Tis a terrible, terrible thing, whether by death or the separation of miles, is permanent. I know your loss there, Varian..."

The pack leader glanced over his shoulder and glanced over the worgen still packing. His grey eyes paused on the three siblings, standing near enough to him to come to his aid if need be, and then he turned back to Varian, brow furrowing in thought.

"We can guide you into the _ritual_ , but how you come through it depends much on you. To conquer yourself—your own worst foe—requires tranquility, balance, and, last and by no means easy, ultimate mastery of your fury. Three struggles, not one."

Jeanne and her brothers watched as Varian's face hardened and a determined flicker spark in his eyes. For the first time since encountering this man, Jeanne felt impressed. At last, here was the fierce king that she'd been told about and not the petty, vengeful man he'd been the past day.

"Three or a hundred, I'll face what needs to be faced. Show me Genn."

The worgen king nodded. "May your ability be as great as your determination."

With that, Genn started towards the clearing where they had set up the necessary things for the ritual. The pack leader's scent changed slightly, indicating that he wanted them to follow, and follow they did. The siblings heard several others join in as they walked as well as the murmured conversation between the rulers. The druid gently touched one of the trees they passed by and asked it to pass along the message to the three druids that their services were needed once again. After she heard her message being passed along in the form of creaking branches and fluttering leaves, she thanked the tree and quickly caught up to her brothers.

The group breached the clearing where they held the ritual, softly lit by the swirling wells sunk into the earth opposite them. Genn led Varian into the center of the clearing while Jeanne and the rest of the accompanying worgen stopped just inside it, waiting for Genn to give the signal. It seemed that Jeanne's message had gotten through, for the three familiar druids stepped out of the shadows and into the soft blue light. They surveyed the amassed worgen with solemn eyes, completely missing the human in the middle of the clearing.

"Who is it to be?" Lyros Swiftwind asked Genn after a moment and the worgen indicated his companion.

"This one, Lyros Swiftwind. I give you Varian Wrynn."

All three elves' long brows shot up in undisguised surprise and they eyed him with newfound curiosity.

"But he is no worgen."

Genn dipped his head, acknowledging Lyros's observation. "Yet, still he suffers as we did before attaining balance. The fury within him is no less than that of any of us, possibly even more."

The druids glanced among themselves before Vassandra gestured with a hand. "Please step forward."

Jeanne watched curiously as Varian obeyed and the three druids each placed a hand on his shoulders. This had never happened before and the she-worgen was curious to see if the familiar ritual would change with this one.

The elves withdrew their hands after a moment and Lyros glanced at his companions, who nodded to the two leaders.

"We see it now," Lyros told Varian in his deep baritone voice. "Welcome, Varian Wrynn. We are honoured with your presence and, as keepers of these wells, will do what we can for you... though I think it best that Genn Greymane be your guide for this."

Both monarchs agreed and Jeanne watched as the human king was guided through the first steps of the ritual—eating the moonleaf and drinking from the wells. She listened to the elves as they repeated much the same words she herself heard when she was going through this and a trickle of boredom played at the edge of her focus.

After Varian drank from the wells, the worgen watched as Genn led him to the center of the clearing, explaining why the clearing was the way it was. The worgen king finally gave them the signal and they obeyed, fanning out to encircle the clearing. It was a precaution they learned early on, in case the worgen undergoing the ritual could not be brought back and tried to bolt for the forest. It also showed their support for the participant; it was a comfort to be surrounded by other members of your race.

Jeanne placed herself at Genn's left flank—his weakest side—still wary of the human... who was starting to produce an aura that was very _not_ human. Varian's eyes darted around the clearing, a calculating glint in his eye and his hand twitched towards the dagger he still carried. Quickly catching onto his trail of thought, Jeanne met his eyes when they flicked towards her. If things were to go badly, the human would only have time to draw the dagger before she or someone else got to him.

Genn interrupted that train of thought, bidding the human to sit across from him. The worgen then gently guided the human through what he needed to do, answering questions with far more patience than Jeanne would have in his stead. The human fell into a meditative silence and they watched as many emotions flowed over Varian's worn and scarred face. It reminded Jeanne much of when she watched Cerdic's trial; how his features relaxed in peace only to tighten up in grief, anger, then confusion, then, at last, an accepting peace. It lasted only a few seconds before it repeated, this time with many more shades of emotions, much too quickly to accurately identify. The aura surrounding him seemed to grow in presence as minutes passed and Jeanne's hunch proved accurate; Goldrinn _did_ bless this human with part of his soul.

When Varian achieved balance within himself—something they all could see—Genn quickly but quietly stood and retreated back a few steps. He gave the silent command for them to remain where they were if Varian were to lash out. They all understood, for conquering the fury within was by far the most challenging and dangerous out of the three tasks. They watched Varian's face contort in concentration and fury and Jeanne could only hold onto the hope that he could conquer his fury, for her people's future depends on it.

Something in the human slid into place and Jeanne gasped as Goldrinn's presence enveloped Varian like a blanket on a cold day. They startled when his eyes flew open and he leapt up. Genn sensed it and jumped back as the man surged forward, eyes blazing with blue flames. His spirit felt whole and his rage felt controlled, like a honed weapon instead of a blazing wildfire.

"Goldrinn...," Genn murmured reverently from beside Jeanne. "Lo'Gosh... his aura...it surrounds you completely..."

Jeanne hadn't felt His presence in a long time and she bowed her head in respect... and reluctant acceptance.

" _Goldrinn_ truly touches your heart, your soul...," the pack leader continued, "The wolf honours you, and so—so do we..."

There was no reply from Varian, save for his heaving breaths as he took in what had happened.

"I've been reckless," he finally said, snapping the reverent silence, "driven by not only bitterness from losing so many things—so many people—of importance to me, but also the fear of losing what little I still cherish, like my son.

"But now I understand. Azeroth needs us. All of you—and me—we are what we've become in order to help it. And help it we must..."

There was a moment of silence. Jeanne herself felt like howling in joy at Varian's words, ringing in sincerity. They were _accepted!_ At last!

"What would you have us do?" Genn asked finally.

Varian's face held only confidence and determination. "We follow our destiny together... and we follow it to Ashenvale."


	6. Battling For Ashenvale.... and For Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worgen, led by Varian Wrynn and Genn Greymane, leave to defend Ashenvale from the savagery of Garrosh's Horde. Jeanne and Cerdic have to keep each other alive. However, one does not leave whole.
> 
> After, Jeanne is presented an offer that will change the course of her life forever.

They spent the rest of the morning gathering up their warriors and, on Genn's and Varian's part, securing transportation for them to Ashenvale. Cerdic and Jeanne had their hands full with helping the worgen stow what belongings they'd already packed inside the Howling Oak, not to mention their own preparations. Finally, Tess and Mia took over their duties, shooing them away to retrieve their weapons and armour.

Ammon met them at their small dwelling, armour and daggers already secured on his body. He silently held out Jeanne's old pack to her while Cerdic slipped inside to search for his own, a grave look on his face. Knowing what was inside the worn leather, Jeanne nodded her thanks to him and dressed. Ammon assisted when she asked him to, but for the most part simply held her staff—one that Malfurion had given her a week back—while she strapped her enchanted armour to herself. The soft clinking of chainmail and the grating metallic sound of plates sliding over each other told of Cerdic's progress and he came out shortly before the druid tied the last knot on her 'boots'.

"Ready?" he grunted, shifting the gleaming helm from one hand to the other. Jeanne nodded as she finished up the tie and stood, extending her hand out for her staff. When it was secured to her back she bounced on her feet lightly to test it, nodding once again when it didn't slip further down her back.

"I'm ready."

Cerdic gave her a scrutinizing stare, nodding when he deemed her armour good. "Alright. You stay close to me, got it?"

Jeanne nodded once again, restraining her first impulse to argue. This wasn't the time for their petty arguments. Especially when this may very well save her life... or her brother's. Her elder brother gave her a knowing look before he patted her shoulder and strode past her to the clearing beyond. Jeanne sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Ammon sent a short glare after him and turned back to his twin, ushering her inside the tree.

"He should know that you're naturally argumentative," Ammon huffed, sitting her down, scooping up their sundries bag and plopping himself behind her. "Though you also need to restrain that urge you have, for some bloody reason, to argue with _everything_ he says. He's not Papa, Joan. He's trying his best to look out for you."

Guilt strangled her heart as her twin calmly brushed out her hair with practiced strokes. "I know... but it's hard to."

Ammon hummed and got to work plaiting her hair, working with the worgen's unruly mane with ease. "I know. But you really do need to try. He loves you—us—more than his own life. You look after him out there; I have a feeling I'm going to be deployed with the troops Varian brought from Stormwind and I can't help you do it."

Unease tangled itself with the guilt and Ammon flicked her ears irritably. "You stop that. I don't need to feel both of our emotions right now."

Conceding with a sigh, Jeanne reigned in her emotions and waited anxiously for him to finish. She needed to apologize to her brother before they left.

* * *

The druid never got to apologize to Cerdic. When the twins finally arrived in the clearing, Cerdic had been helping Genn direct the lines of worgen towards the portal and to the ships they secured beyond. The twins got into line with a shared worried look and they were assigned to the same ship Genn, Varian, Cerdic, and most of the worgen population would be on; the same ship the human king took to Teldrassil. There was much to do once they did board—the Delroys were sailors and were part of the crew—and duties kept them apart.

It didn't take long for them to reach Ashenvale. The ships dropped anchor as close as they could get to the shore—which was fairly close. The strand had a small sand shelf before dropping into deep water—and worgen and human alike slogged onto the sand. Jeanne bounced anxiously on the sand, nerves thrumming just under her skin. Cerdic ignored her and instead watched the monarchs standing a little ways away. Varian was staring into the close trees with a hungry look in his eyes while Genn also watched him.

"Joan," Cerdic warned, eyes widening as Goldrinn's aura around the human grew, "Be prepared to leave."

"Eh?" Jeanne asked just as Genn leaned over and told the humans to follow as best they could. As soon as those words left his mouth Varian took off running for the forest, moving at a speed that a human should never be able to achieve. Genn leapt after him and thus begun the run to the battle field.

The druid noticed as soon as she hit the treeline that the forest here was not a happy one. It did not give off the aura of welcome that the ones in Teldrassil did, but rather one of pain and anger.

 _They hurt us_ , the leaves whispered.

 _They burn us,_ the trunks groaned as she dashed by them, heart heavy with their pain.

_They cut us down!_

_Help us!_

_I will!_ Jeanne promised in the pack tongue as she and her brethren leapt over a series of large rocks. The wind stole her words away. _But I need you to aid me and my people. Help me drive away those who hurt you!_

 _Very well, wolf child,_ the branches creaked, and the druid grinned in victory. _You have our aid._

* * *

The rest of the run was a blur, filled with the rustling of the forest above, the pounding of her packmates' paws around her, and the burning in her muscles. Her brother's scent was strong in her nostrils as he ran beside her and a measure of comfort settled in her breast; he wouldn't allow her to be killed. Not now, not ever.

The leaders slowed and came to a stop on a small ridge. The wind blew in their direction, carrying the sickly reek of battle on it. Jeanne automatically scrunched up her nose at it. It reminded her too much of their retreat of Gilneas, but in a different setting.

"Horde..." Genn spat and Jeanne had to agree. This wasn't the smell of just one race, but of all of them.

Varian crept closer, drawing out his fabled blade in the process. They followed and Jeanne's heart stopped at the sight of the battlefield. Their lines stretched for as far as the eye could see, dotted with massive, centaur-like beings. They looked nothing like the centaurs that she'd seen drawn in books, and they were _huge_!

Cerdic's plated shoulder bumped hers and she refocused herself. They'd come too far to turn back like scared dogs. Varian, just ahead of her, threw his head back and howled like they'd done for him the day prior. It echoed throughout the trees and she could see many hesitating at the new sound. He howled again, this time a clear challenge in it, and as one, they took up the call to arms, their voices reverberating through the trees. Jeanne's heart soared with renewed confidence and, at Varian's silent command they surged forward like the floodwaters of a broken dam, taking everything in its way.

The druid took to her more powerful form with ease, fur rippling snowy white a second before the first spurt of red stained her paws. She and Cerdic worked as a team against the forces of the Horde, taking the stunned first few far too easily. The foliage around the druid also assisted in their battle, tangling enemies in suddenly too-low branches and tripping them with roots they'd 'failed' to take notice of before.

"Left!" Cerdic shouted, bark barely making itself heard above the din of swords clashing against swords and hoarse battle yells.

Jeanne immediately spun to her left and dodged a downward swing of an axe. The orc left himself wide open and she took it, sinking her teeth deep in his exposed neck while her claws sunk into the gashes in his armour to hold herself there. The orc gurgled and dropped like a stone, taking her with him. A startled meow was all she uttered before she was thrown off and into the churning mass of bodies and weapons. Her sudden presence startled them long enough for her to get to her feet and pounce on the nearest Horde. The Forsaken soldier stood no chance, though he managed to put a decent sized cut into her back haunch before she tore his throat out with her claws.

The wound slowed her and the hot, itchy blood that poured from it annoyed her. Her dodge from another weapon was slower than it should've been and caught her in her shoulder.

"JEANNE!" Cerdic bellowed as a wail of pain tore out of her throat and she was forced to retreat. The tauren warrior shook his great horned head and jabbed his massive sword at her, forcing her to back into the trunk of a tree. From the corner of her eye she could see her brother fighting furiously to get to her in time, a wild look of panic and rage in his eyes.

"Stupid druid," the bull taunted and she snarled defiantly. "It'll be an honour to take such a beautiful pelt as yours."

At that precise moment the tree's branches came down and tangled the tauren's sword, wrapping around it and snaking its way down his arms. He grunted and tried to shake himself loose. Jeanne chuckled mentally and leapt on his bound arms, launching herself to tear at his unprotected face. He roared with pain and anger, swinging his head in a futile effort to gore her with his horns. He did manage to knock her off, and before she could regain her footing a bloodstained sword erupted from the bull's chest. He looked down at the gore-riddled blade with such a look of shock before he keeled over dead. Cerdic grimly pulled his blade from the carcass with a stomach-churning _squelch_ and planted himself between her and the battle.

"Heal yourself!" he yelled over his shoulder, bracing himself as a blue-skinned troll disengaged from the battle and charged towards him with a strangled shout.

Jeanne immediately Changed, the pain of her wounds momentarily stunning her before she launched into the first of her spells. The pain waned some with the first of her spells but took two more tries to get the deep gashes to close. The druid cursed her lack of healing ability as fatigue settled deep in her bones. She forced herself up just as the ground shook and knocked her back a few paces. Cerdic and the troll disengaged briefly to look up in horror as a great shadow cast over them. One of those massive not-centaurs had staggered off its course and loomed over them. As they looked, swarms of worgen crawled, clawed, and bit its hide like hundreds of ants.

A flurry of movement near caught Jeanne's eye. The troll had apparently taken advantage of their distraction and brought the first of his twin axes down on Cerdic's back. A wordless screech tore out of both of their throats as Cerdic dropped to his knees. Jeanne was already moving when the troll brought the other axe down, splitting open the plate and gouging deep into the leather and flesh beneath. He only got to enjoy his success for a few moments before a combination of lunar fire hit him and a pair of furious jaws latched around his throat. Jeanne took no time in tearing out the bastard's throat, burying her claws deep into his armour and flesh as an added insult. The troll fell away with a gurgle that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and the druid immediately turned to her brother gasping at her feet.

"Cerdic!" Jeanne cried, throwing herself beside him despite the battle churning around her. He whimpered as the ground shook once again and he made a valiant effort to lift himself. A look of pure panic screwed up his features.

"Joan, I-I can't! I can't feel my legs!"

Ice gripped the druid's heart at his frantic whimper and her hands shook. "What do you mean you can't feel your legs?!"

"I can't feel my legs!" Cerdic wailed, face screwing up in fear as he tried again.

"Hold on!" Jeanne looked around wildly for someone to help her to no avail. She was on her own for this. "Cerdic, I need you to stay awake, no matter what! I need to move you to safety!"  
Cerdic took a shuddering breath and nodded. Mentally bracing herself, Jeanne took one of his limp legs and _pulled_. The lack of reaction from him solidified his claim. It took every bit of Jeanne's strength to pull her wounded brother deeper into the forest. Before she could do anything for him, a pained roar and the ground shaking around them tore her attention to the behemoth looming over them.

Making a decision, Jeanne mentally apologized to her brother and stood over him in a casting stance. She lifted her shaking arms and voice to call to the forest around her.

_I need your aid now! This beast and his kin slew many of you! Help me bring him down!_

A cacophony of creaking and shaking answered her and she felt the forest's magic thrum in the air. For a moment she was stunned at the sheer magnitude of it. It felt as if she was a trickle of water compared to a roaring river and suddenly she understood Cenarius's warning of the power destroying her. It was like a flea trying to tell a bear where to go.

With an almighty yank, Jeanne tugged at a stream of magic and combined it with her own. Her hands shook as they glowed with power, and, looking at her mammoth target still moving towards her, understood what she needed to do.

"Root!" she cried, thrusting her hands out in a grabbing motion. Dirt and dust erupted as massive, thick tree roots exploded out of the ground. They wrapped themselves around the not-centaur's front legs and forearms, trapping the beast where it stood. The sheer power it took staggered her and it was a force of will that kept her standing. It bellowed and tugged at the roots, desperately trying to free itself.

Some of the combatants took notice of her standing over her fallen brother and charged, weapons raised to strike her down. Moving fluidly, the druid gestured at them, hands still glowing, and more roots sprang up, spearing many through legs or trapping them completely. None made it to her and she returned her focus to holding the massive beast.

At that moment one of its back legs buckled and it roared in agony. It tried to turn its torso to grab at the other hind leg but the roots held fast. A sharp howl—one that she recognized as Genn's—was thick with warning and the leg started to buckle. Jeanne used the magic and yanked the roots down and back towards the leg. With an almost mournful roar, the not-centaur fell onto its side. The earth shook with its fall, knocking Jeanne onto her knees and snapping the connection she had to the forest. She gasped when she felt how little of her magic remained. A groan brought her back to the present and she wearily dragged herself to Cerdic's side. His visible eye was glassy and Jeanne cursed when she realized that she hadn't even staunched the bleeding.

"I'm so sorry Cerd," she choked out, extending her shaking hands over his wound and clenching her eyes shut. "I should've seen to you first."

She started the chant and groaned when her magic drained further. She felt it take hold and start repairing something deep inside his body. The bleeding waned some when the spell ended and the druid dug her shaking fingers in her belt pocket, extracting a small blue bottle from it.

"I'd hoped to never use this," she mumbled before popping the cork off and pouring it down her throat. The spearminty, electric tingle shot through her veins as soon as it hit her churning stomach and she felt a bit of her magic increase. It was good enough one more spell.

She dropped the bottle to the ground and pressed her hands to the bloody wound. Cerdic let out a tiny grunt at the pressure but gave no other indication that he lived. Jeanne gathered up the last bit of her magic and poured it all into a healing spell. It was only enough to staunch the bleeding the rest of the way.

She collapsed onto her elbows, panting and shaking from the exertion and feeling totally drained. Beside her, Cerdic's face screwed up and an agonized whimper squeezed out of his throat. His claws dug into the soft soil and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Joan," he gasped and she opened an exhausted eye to regard him. "I have... a flask of... water... in my... belt pack... Take it..."

She blinked, the words taking several moments to work themselves into comprehension. "Cerd... You need it... more..."

"No..." He grunted. "For you..."

She whimpered and pressed her nose to the side of his head, murmuring her thanks and moving to reach his belt. The pack was hidden underneath a few sliding plates of armour and she carefully dug in it to retrieve the partially filled waterskin. She shook it, dismayed at how much was left, and took a careful mouthful. She dared to take one more sip before stowing it away in her own belt pack. Her shaking lessened at the influx of magical energy, but was no where near enough to restore her.

"I need to get us out of here," Jeanne told her brother, who made a negative sound.

"I'm sure... someone... will find us..."

The druid snorted. "Like the Horde if we don't fall back." She paused and racked her brain for a possible solution. There was only one glaring option that may work.

"Can you lift yourself with your arms?" she asked seriously.

Cerdic's eye refocused on her. "Possibly. Why do yo—" The eye widened in growing horror. "Joanie, please, anything but that!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, clambering up on all fours, "It's the only way to get you to safety."

"I'm too heavy, you bloody fool!"

"Rubbish. You forget that I'm a druid. On three."

"Joanie—!"

"One..."

"There has to be some oth—"

"Two..."

"Dammit Joan!"

" _Three!_ "

Cerdic lifted himself as far as he could, a pained screech reverberating behind his clenched teeth, and Jeanne immediately squeezed underneath him. He collapsed on her and, for a second, winded her with his weight. The druid wheezed the words of a spell and felt her form shift and grow. Cerdic cried out in both surprise and pain as his back jostled and sent fire shooting up his restored nerves. Jeanne grunted her apology and hissed as his claws bit into her hide. She lifted her bear snout into the air and took two long breaths. All around her was the smell of death and gore, but to the west there came a scent achingly familiar to the druid, and that's where she turned and lumbered towards.

Her progress was slow. She couldn't go faster than a lumbering walk for fear of causing Cerdic more pain. She could hear his teeth grinding and whimpers whenever he was jostled and each one stabbed another bolt of guilt in her heart. She could feel that Ammon was also hurt, but to a lesser extent than Cerdic's. She was almost to the back line when a horn sounded. Many more horns called into the air, and then came the sound of many feet retreating.

"Th-think we... won?" Cerdic asked through clenched teeth and Jeanne could do little more than grunt.

Cheers could be heard shortly after, voices belonging to familiar races and Jeanne's heart soared. They and their allies succeeded in pushing back the Horde! A pained grunt brought her back to the present and she walked on, finally emerging from the trees a few minutes later.

Jeanne hardly noticed the healers until they surrounded her and her brother. Instinctively, she hedged and bore her teeth at them. One of the elven healers approached her slowly and spoke to her in a soothing voice.

"Peace, druid; we will not hurt you or your companion. Allow us to heal both of you."

Blinking, Jeanne mentally chastised herself and gently lowered herself to the ground, allowing them to carefully pull Cerdic from her back and carry him off. She started after them, concern flooding her heart, when the same priestess stepped in her way.

"Druid, you need assistance. Change back and we can take care of you from there."

Huffing, the druid obeyed and swayed wearily on her feet. The elf looked her up and down, a tired frown on her graceful features, and turned and disappeared into the throng of rushing healers and wounded. Another priestess, this time a grumpy-looking dwarf, took her to a place where the less wounded were at and sat her down. The elf was back shortly after, a heel of bread in one hand and a large goblet in the other, and she handed them to the druid.

"Your companion is being sent back to Darnassus," she informed Jeanne as she tore into the bread, "He's too injured to be treated here."

The fluffy bread turned wooden in her mouth and she forced herself to swallow it. " _What?!_ How bad is it?"

The priestess fixed her with a grave stare. "His lower spine is shattered and his spinal cord was severed. What healing you did saved his life, repaired his spinal cord, and restored feeling in his legs and pelvis. Whether he can walk again, only Elune knows."

The juice in the goblet sloshed as her hands shook. The bread dropped to her lap as she focused on the elf's grim face. "Let me see my brother!"

She sighed and placed a hand on Jeanne's shoulder to prevent her from moving. "I cannot do that—" The elf merely gave her an unimpressed stare when Jeanne snarled angrily. "Not until you regain your strength and mana back! You used everything you had to get back here and now you need to _rest!_ After, you can take the portal."

Conceding with a grumble, Jeanne grabbed the fallen bread and tore a piece off of it, followed by a swig of the goblet. The elf nodded in satisfaction and stayed long enough to give her directions to the portal. Jeanne watched her leave with a heavy heart full of worry for her eldest brother.

* * *

Once again, a summit was called. This time, Jeanne couldn't care less.

Ammon had returned toting minor injuries and had immediately sought Cerdic's side when he learned what happened. He forced the full story out of Jeanne, who hadn't left the eldest's side since she bullied her way through the portal. The rogue was both impressed and dismayed at the fortitude his twin showed, dragging both herself and their very heavy brother out of the battlefield on little more than a mouthful of water to keep her going.

Jeanne was beside herself with worry and guilt, only eating when Ammon or Malfurion bullied her to eat something. She kept constant guard over him, not even leaving to sleep. They received a few visitors over the few days preluding the next summit, including Tess, Mia, Genn when he'd finally arrived, and a few other worgen who's names slipped her mind. Even Malfurion stopped by when he could, though she sensed it was more for her sake than her brother's. He'd been there when Ammon forced her to tell everything that had happened, including her fusion with the forest's power, and she could feel the shock radiating from her master. He's yet to ask her about it, but she senses that he will soon enough.

Cerdic was healing very slowly, even with the prayers of the high priestess herself. It was a few days of round-the-clock healing that Tyrande gave her the news that he was likely to walk again. Currently, he was laying on his stomach, still in his pack form, and listening to Jeanne read to him out of a book she found in the Temple.

"Genn asked you if you would go to the summit," Cerdic commented when she paused for breath. She gave him short glare.

"You need me more, Cerd."

He returned her glare with one of his own. "Joan, the King of Gilneas, _our_ king, asked you to participate. Stop being such a worry-wart and go!"

She snapped the book shut and tossed it onto his bedside table, a scowl on her freckled face. "I will _not_ leave you here alone! Not when you're down and _I'm_ responsible for it!"

Comprehension dawned on Cerdic's face then. "Joanie, you did nothing wrong. If anything, you did everything right!"

She shook her head, eyes watering. "I almost let you _die!_ Just because I decided to be a bloody hero and—!"

"Jeanne." Cerdic cut her off, a growl in his voice. She fell silent though guilty tears slid down her cheeks. He reached over and gently wiped them away with a swipe of his thumb. "Joanie, my beloved sister. If you _hadn't,_ then many more would've died in my stead. You saved so many people with that decision, that _amazing_ power that you have!"

She opened her mouth to argue but he pressed a finger to her lips. "Hush, let me talk. None of that matters now. You saved _me_ , saved so many people. I'm still here, talking to you. That's what matters, Joanie. I don't love you any less for the choice you made. If anything, I love you _more_ , for I have an amazing sister that I am so proud of."

Jeanne's face screwed up and she buried her face in the scruff of his neck. He bit back a pained whine and simply held her, whispering soothing words into her ear. "I will always love you Joanie, no matter what you choose. _Always_ remember that."

Jeanne merely whimpered and held him close, breathing in his scent and reminding herself that he was alive and with her.

A familiar presence appeared at the doorway and she heard Cerdic acknowledge her twin. Ammon wordlessly dropped onto his knees and hugged her from behind, sending what reassurance he could through their Connection. Despite the guilt in her heart, Jeanne smiled from being surrounded by those she loved the most.

When the druid felt calm enough, she pulled back and wiped her eyes. Ammon still kept a comforting arm around her, offering his support if she needed it. She shot him a grateful smile and took a few deep breaths.

"Joanie," Ammon breathed, tightening his arm around her briefly, "I can watch him while you're gone. Genn sent me to retrieve you; it's almost time."

Jeanne huffed out a sigh that bordered on amusement. "Pushy, aren't we? Fine, if it'll make everyone happy. Where can I find him?"

"Just outside Craftsman Terrace."

She touched his hand in thanks and, after pressing a kiss to Cerdic's brow, departed with a swish of flame hair. Several of the priestesses nodded to her as she passed and she acknowledged them with her own. They were part of the healers that had been working on Cerdic these past few days and the worgen couldn't be more grateful to them.

She swiftly but quietly made her way to the edge of the forest that encircled Darnassus and a soft smile painted her lips when the forest welcomed her. She patted one of the trunks fondly and wove between them to where she smelt her fellow Gilneans were. Genn was the first to greet her, silently enveloping her in a tight hug and pouring as much support into it as possible. She sighed deeply, railing against the urge to cry again. She pulled away after a few long moments and he gave her a tired smile. The battle had taken a lot out of the old king and he didn't recover as quickly as he used to.

"How is he?" Genn asked lowly, not paying much mind to the voice of Malfurion and, after, Varian just ahead.

Jeanne exhaled a slow breath. "Healing as slow as ever, the stubborn git. The high priestess is sure that he will be able to walk again, but with much effort."

The Gilnean king's eyes brightened at the news and he clapped a broad hand on her shoulder. "That's wondrous news, Jeanne!"

Jeanne didn't get a chance to respond as Genn glanced towards the entrance of the summit, where Varian's words echoed.

"-Fury. You feel it now. This is what we need—"

"Change," Genn ordered and they all obeyed. Jeanne took her place beside the king and waited for their anthem to play. Her heart still fluttered when the first notes blared and she had to keep herself from weeping at the familiarity; so much that was familiar had been lost.

Genn surged forward and she was a step behind him, quickly tucking away those emotions and sliding a defiant face on. Once again, she felt eyes on her and, this time, they did not bother her. She was who she was and she can fight just as well as any here. It was time for them to take their place within the fold of the Alliance.

Once again, they fanned out to face every corner of the contingent, Genn taking his place facing his counterpart. His fist thudded against his chest in salute and Jeanne couldn't help but to scan the crowd. A tinge of disappointment surprised her when she didn't find the flash of golden hair that belonged to a boy too curious for his own good.

"When last we were here, the archdruid sought a vote on full membership of Gilneas and the worgen by acclamation!" Varian called to the audience, "I call on you today to recast your vote! What say the rest of you?"

"Aye!" shouted a dwarf toting a beard as red as her human hair.

"Aye!" his kin yelled immediately after.

A draenei rose, her dusky skin complementing the soft yellow and white robes she wore. "I am Ishanah, high priestess of the Aldor, chosen to speak in place of the Prophet! The draenei cast a vote of aye!"

With every vote of aye after, Jeanne's heart lightened and joy settled into her heart. Once again she was stifling tears, but these were tears of joy. _Finally._ Finally they would have some sense of purpose! No longer would they wander, living off of someone elses' generosity. They could make their own way in the world, earning their keep.

When the vote moved to Stormwind, the entire assembly seemed to hold its breath. The human king surveyed them, drawing out the anticipation, but despite that Jeanne knew deep in her heart that he would not deny them again.

"Stormwind votes aye!" Varian bellowed and solidified the growing respect in Jeanne's breast. "Gilneas and the worgen are full members of the Alliance!"

Jeanne added her voice with the others, howling their victory and joy to the heavens and the rest of the pack took up the call from the forest. From beside her, Genn inclined his head in solemn respect and declared," You honour us! But we also honour you, Varian Wrynn of Stormwind! We honour the champion of Ashenvale!"

The crowd cheered and the worgen punctuated it with yips and short howls. Malfurion stepped up but Varian drew him aside to have a short whispered conversation with him. Jeanne ignored them, simply basking in the victorious feeling that her packmates emanated. Soon enough, the archdruid stepped up fully and lifted his voice above the din.

"Gilneas and the worgen are welcomed into the fold! And the worgen are welcome to a new, permanent home here with the night elf people!"

Her people howled in gratitude, but Jeanne could only stare at her master, tears gathering in her eyes. That word sounded so welcome after months of uncertainty. She had a _home_ again.

Oblivious to her turbulent emotions, Malfurion went on, "But we must also welcome the man who has brought us together again and who has also brought the future of the Alliance sharply into focus at last! Varian Wrynn, king of Stormwind!"

The audience roared their agreement, all surging to their feet and cheering. His name became a chant and Varian stepped beside Malfurion. Though Jeanne's heart was lighter than it had been in months, she chose to slip away from the gathering and head back towards the Temple, unaware that her retreat hadn't gone unnoticed.

* * *

Jeanne sat beside her brothers, hours later, waiting for Cerdic's evening healing. He normally got three to four healings a day, the evening often being the last so he could sleep. Tyrande herself often lead it and report to the anxious siblings on how he progressed. Tyrande arrived with a whisper of cloth, though this time she wasn't accompanied by her fellow priestesses of Elune.

"Malfurion," Jeanne greeted with no small amount of surprise. He inclined his head and wordlessly motioned her outside the small healers' room. She hesitated, made eye contact with Ammon, who nodded for her to go, and stepped out with her master.

"Jeanne," he murmured, turning to start a slow circle around the statue of the first high priestess, Haidene. "I have considered much since you have returned. The story you told matches up with Genn's, Varian's, and more accounts of what happened. I am surprised that you still live, Thero'shan."

Jeanne glanced up sharply at that, her eyes wide with shock. He'd never granted her that honourific, simply referring to her with her given name or 'apprentice'. He smiled gently down at her.

"You have more than earned it, Jeanne. However, that is not why I brought you out here."

"Then why—?" she asked only for Malfurion to indicate another healing room just beyond them, its door pulled shut.

"Someone wishes to speak to you."

Intensely curious now, Jeanne gave Malfurion a short bow and strode to the door, tugging it open. She froze when she got a good look at who was inside, her mind going blank with shock. There, sitting casually in one of the elves' molded chairs and reading over a piece of parchment, was King Varian himself.

He looked up when the door swung open and smiled pleasantly at the stunned druid, still gaping at him from the doorway. "Good evening, Lady Jeanne. Please, have a seat. And close the door behind you."

Numbly, she did as she was told, a billion questions popping into her mind. She wisely kept them to herself, slipping into the seat across from him. Her fingers fluttered nervously from their place in her lap, acutely aware of his pleasant but evaluating stare on her. His eyes—the same colour as the ocean, she distantly noted—examined her features carefully, taking note of everything and committing it to memory. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Varian glanced away and down to the sheet of parchment he held.

"So I meet the apprentice Malfurion talks about and the noblewoman Genn adores. Your full name is Lady Jeanne Delroy, correct?"

She shifted uncomfortably, still confused to why he was even speaking to her. "Yes..."

"Your sire is Lord Anthony Delroy, Hero of Southshore?"

Jeanne tensed at her father's name, old hurt rising up to lick at her heart. "Again, yes..."

Varian picked up at the mournful undertone in her voice, his eyes softening slightly. "It is a sad day to hear of his loss; he was a great man, and I reckon greater father."

Jeanne could do little more than nod and lower her eyes. "Again, you are correct, Your Majesty."

Varian sat back, evaluating eyes locked on her. "You were raised in the Royal Court of Gilneas, yes?"

"Until I was fourteen. I was sent to the harvest witches after... after my father passed."

"And these 'harvest witches' were..?"

"Our version of druids. Lesser, but still the same."

He hummed and glanced down at the parchment. Jeanne couldn't help but wonder what was written on it, but kept her eyes on him. He nodded after a moment and set it aside, refocusing on her.

"Malfurion tells me that you are a very powerful druid; one of the most powerful he's seen."

He paused, as if allowing her time to expand on that. When she stayed silent, he continued.

"Genn raves about you when asked, Lady Delroy. He says that there is no one more dedicated to those you cherish and to your duty. Is that true?"

The druid thought back to the mindless drive she has to keep her loved ones out of danger and the same drive to fulfill her duty, no matter the cost to her, and allowed a small smile to paint her lips.

"I would say so, Your Majesty. If I may ask, why am I here?"

An amused glint jumped into his eyes. "Straight to the point, I see."

Jeanne's heart froze and Varian chuckled at her pale expression.

"I appreciate bluntness, Lady Delroy. It seems that you are of the same opinion. Very well, I will forgive your breach of courtly manners and answer you directly.

"A position has opened up in my guard this morning. I employed the wisdom of the archdruid to find a suitable replacement and that lead me to your king. The first person he recommended was you, Lady Delroy, which Archdruid Malfurion agrees with."

Jeanne sat, stunned at the overload of information. Half of her was immensely flattered that both her king and her master had such high opinions of her, and the other half was intensely intrigued.

"What does the job entail?" she asked, the curious part of her winning out.

"You will not be assigned to me personally, but to my son, Prince Anduin Wrynn in the Exodar. You will work alongside another day guard to protect him from whatever dangers he may encounter there, fulfill any need he has within reason, and to provide companionship if he desires it."

Jeanne blinked and something about this felt... right. She glanced towards the door just behind Varian and he caught onto it.

"Your brother—Baron Cerdic was it?—was one of the many injured in the Battle, correct?"

She nodded, a dark look crossing her face. "Yes. His back was broken."

His features tightened slightly in sympathy. "He, if he chooses, will be given quarters with the Greymane family in Stormwind Keep. The best healers will be assigned to him. Is that acceptable to you, Lady Delroy?"

Jeanne hesitated. "Will those accommodations be made if I choose not to accept your offer?"

"Yes. You and your siblings have done a great deed for the Alliance and we see to the health of all of our members."

She nodded, mollified. "I need to discuss this with my brothers, Your Majesty, if that is alright..."

He dipped his head. "Of course. Don't take too much time deciding; I will be leaving in the morning and, as I understand it, the Draenei will be leaving shortly after."

She nodded her understanding and, sensing the dismissal, stood and bowed to him. "I will be in contact shortly."

With that, she spun, eased the door open, and hurried across the temple to where her brothers were. It was empty except for the siblings and, surprisingly, they both were still awake. Ammon stopped her from pulling the door shut behind her and embraced her tightly.

"Archdruid Malfurion told us of Varian's offer," he told her, forcing her to sit in her previous seat at Cerdic's head. "Take it Joanie. It's perfect for you."

"But—" Jeanne started, looking at Cerdic for help. He merely smiled sleepily at her and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

"Joanie, I will be safe in Stormwind's keep with Genn, Mia, and Tess to look after me. You can't always stay behind and take care of me. You need to live your life on _your_ terms."

"And I was asked to assist the elves with rebuilding Darkshore," Ammon added, taking her other hand, "By Tyrande herself. I plan on going."

Jeanne glanced between the two most important people in her life, a sense of uncertainty rising in her throat. "But... how will we communicate?"

Ammon and Cerdic both snorted. "We will write each other, dunce," Ammon laughed.

She glared at him, though acceptance began to sink into her mind. "When will we see each other again..?"

They sobered up, mournful expressions crossing their features. "I don't know," Cerdic confessed, "But when we do, it will be a joyous day."

Overwhelmed, Jeanne pressed herself close to Cerdic, burying her face in Ammon's shoulder when he knelt with her. Tears flowed freely between the three of them, for Jeanne now knew her answer and it scared her deeper than any other fear she'd known.


	7. Epilogue: Accepting the Duty Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeanne introduces herself to Prince Anduin Wrynn as his new guard.

"Well, we're certainly not in Gilneas anymore."

Jeanne snorted at her own joke as she watched the foreign land of Azuremyst Isle—all lit in hues of blue and purple—slide past her. The sense of calm she had since leaving Teldrassil, partly due to her being on a ship, started to slip away and was replaced by nervousness. Worse yet, she had no one here to give her comfort; she was truly on her own for the first time in her life. She never realized how much she relied on her brothers to be there for her until this very moment, and the vulnerable feeling did not sit well with her.

The gentle bump of the ship halting and jokes being exchanged in that odd accent the Draenei possessed brought her out of her thoughts. She smiled a bit, the cheer lifting her own mood some, stepped onto the deck proper and waited while the crew tied the boat and lowered the gang plank. Hoisting her full pack higher on her shoulder, Jeanne stepped off the ship behind the representatives, resisting the urge to gawk at the scenery like a bumpkin. A female draenei in gleaming plate armour stood off to the side. Her dusky skin and mahogany hair—pulled up in a simple tail—stood out drastically from her peers and caught Jeanne's gaze immediately. The draenei looked her up and down, nodded, and approached her.

"Greetings," she said, her voice as accented as her people, though slightly deeper, rounder. "You must be the human that Prophet Velen said would come. I am Vindicator Murua, assigned to escort you to the Prophet."

Jeanne shifted her weight, feeling unease prickle at her words. "Jeanne. Pleasure to meet you."

Murua nodded sharply and pointed to the gaping entrance just a few yards from them. "The quickest way would be through there. If you will follow me, Jeanne."

The druid fell into step behind the draenei, now allowing herself to gape at the violet and gold architecture the hallway was constructed of. Her heart dropped when she saw it come to a, seemingly, abrupt halt and discovered just how much of the city is underground. The Vindicator paused, an amused smirk playing at the corners of her lips, and stomped a hoof on the expanse of thin, clear crystal she was standing on.

"Perfectly safe."

Steeling her nerves, Jeanne cautiously stepped onto it and tested her weight on it. When it did not give, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and proceeded. The soft tingle of magic tickled her feet through her boots as she walked, adding to the jittery feeling of being so high above the residents. Soft golden light shone down upon them from above, painting everything in a wan yellow.

When they finally got to the ground floor, Murua walked right past a huge, glowing image of what, Jeanne assumed, was a demon of some sort. The very feminine demon winked at them as they passed, and though the draenei paid the image no mind, Jeanne couldn't help but stare at her.

"This is the Vault of Lights," Murua commented, waving a hand out at the softly glowing room.

"I can see why," Jeanne muttered, craning her neck to glimpse the crystals jutting out of the ceiling.

"This way," the draenei called, bringing her attention back on her. "The Prophet's chambers aren't far."

Readjusting her pack, Jeanne followed her guide, trying her best to keep her attention on the draenei in front of her and not on the splendor of the Exodar. She was lead into a chamber lit by a pillar of swirling violet light that stunned Jeanne into stillness. Murua, as if knowing the druid's emotions, paused and allowed her to gape at the area.

"This is the Seat of the Naaru. Below us is where O'ros resides."

"Who's O'ros?"

The draenei sent her an unreadable look. "Our resident Naaru."

Jeanne bit her tongue when a flare of temper rose up. It's not her fault that she has no idea what her guide was talking about! But now was not the time to set this woman straight on a few things.

Her guide, deciding that the druid had gawked enough, turned left and strode towards a domed structure, painted a deep gold, that seemed to grow out of the wall. There were a pair of large imposing draenei dressed in armour even more ornate than her guide's and holding blades the width of one of her thighs. They eyed the pair as they approached and one of them stepped in front of the doorway, effectively blocking it with his bulk.

"I am Vindicator Murua, appointed guide of Prince Anduin Wrynn's guard. We seek audience with the Prophet and the Prince."

The guard glanced at Jeanne, who held his gaze with a defiant one of her own, and he nodded. "Very well. You may pass."

He stepped back to his previous position and the two women strode past him. They passed another pair of guards, who nodded at them, and finally they came to the Prophet's personal chambers. The door was ajar, allowing a familiar aged voice to filter through.

"—doing well, young Anduin. Now, let us turn our attention to his passage here—"

Murua pushed the door the rest of the way and his voice paused at the interruption.

"Prophet Velen, Prince Anduin. I have lead the human guard here as you asked."

"Thank you Vindicator Murua. Please come in."

Jeanne squeezed past the armoured draenei and bowed to both occupants.

"Lady Delroy!" a familiar voice exclaimed and she glanced up. Anduin's youthful face was open in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Both their presences calmed the worgen enough to drop her polite facade and sent the prince a small grin. "Well, if I understand my assignment well enough, I am to be your new day guard."

Hope sparked in his cornflower eyes and a tiny grin danced on his lips. "So that means my father..."

"Accepted us? Yes." Jeanne straightened and dug around in one of her hip packs, drawing out a rolled missive sealed with the elves' mark. "I'm just as surprised. My letter of introduction, Prince Anduin."

He took it and broke the seal. His eyes darted over the letter, widening slightly when they reached the bottom. "This is penned by Archdruid Malfurion himself!"

A wry grin twisted her lips. "Yes, though I know him as Master."

His shocked stare jumped up to her. "You're his apprentice?"

"Was," she corrected, "We both had our duties to attend to."

Anduin nodded and skimmed the letter again, re-rolling it a few moments later and stashing it in his pocket. He looked up at Jeanne and gave her a warm, welcoming smile.

"Well, it's good to have you, Lady Jeanne. Would you mind terribly with recounting what happened to lead up to this?"

Jeanne glanced at the Prophet and he inclined his head towards an empty seat next to Anduin. Taking the hint, she quickly seated herself, taking a moment to drop her heavy pack next to her feet, and turned towards her new liege.

"Well, it starts like this—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this little story! I really, truly, appreciate every one of you for taking the time to read through this. It means so much to me and the Delroys to have their story read and appreciated. 
> 
> I will see you on the next installment! Happy reading everyone!


End file.
